tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40464684022305014802019-05-01T12:51:09.588-07:00Whirled TravelerThere are mountains to hike, roads to ride and bodies of water to swim in. Let's Go!Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.comBlogger224125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-2626930809786371482019-03-05T17:52:00.001-08:002019-05-01T12:51:09.578-07:00Learning Night Photography<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lifetime Learner - this is a concept that applies to me. I have attended multiple colleges for varying degrees and areas of study and I continue to take classes that involve the natural world and photography. On March 1, I took a Nighttime Photography class in the North Cascades with well-regarded landscape photographer, <a href="http://andyporterimages.com/" target="_blank">Andy Porter</a>. </span></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had recently purchased a new camera and, while my back was healing after some serious snow shoveling during <a href="https://www.whirled-traveler.com/2019/02/snowmageddon-2019.html" target="_blank">Snowmageddon</a>, I spent some time watching YouTube videos on what settings to use for shooting the night sky. One thing I learned right away is that you really can find everything you want to know on the internet. I was able to find a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC722pdt-51Jy0jPDCV5uuJw" target="_blank">YouTube-r</a> who had the same camera model and who very clearly explained how to change the settings, with the rationale behind each change.</span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yowHgLAECSY/XH8jAj0lB9I/AAAAAAAALis/e2c6VBaZhCs6fWILNu3FV9YKHH2kLRU4gCLcBGAs/s1600/NCI%2B-%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yowHgLAECSY/XH8jAj0lB9I/AAAAAAAALis/e2c6VBaZhCs6fWILNu3FV9YKHH2kLRU4gCLcBGAs/s640/NCI%2B-%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">stars, mountains, great foreground - all out of focus</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I sat down in the classroom, Andy introduced himself and handed out a page with instructions (just like I had found on the internet) as well as calculations for “The 500 Rule” for nighttime exposure. I was feeling quite confident about having sought out this information previously and I was able to quickly make adjustments to my camera. One of those adjustments is manual focus and it is an inexact science on my particular camera since there is no focus ring on the lens. After changing the focus to manual, I watched on the rear screen as I moved the cursor toward infinity and left it that way for the drive to our location.</span></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">After everyone had gathered their tripod, camera and warm clothes, the class of 11 students plus Andy loaded up into two vehicles and drove out to the gated closure of Hwy 20 at Colonial Creek Campground (they moved the closure further west this year due to the excessive snowfall) and we were all unleashed into the night. No, not exactly, as we all walked around the gate and onto the bridge across Thunder Arm, to the south of Diablo Lake and set up our tripods. </span></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I screwed my camera onto the tripod, set it up as straight as I could and aimed upward. The sky was cloudy and it was dark. No, I mean really dark; it was so dark, there was nothing to look at on my screen or in the viewfinder. After waiting the two-second delay, the lens clicked closed after 25 seconds. When I pushed the playback button, I could see a dark outline of mountains and stars in the sky. I couldn’t believe it - could it really be this easy, just set up and press a button? I shouted out into the night, “I’ve got stars!”. I tried it again, changing the angle slightly and this time, I saw mountain peaks and stars with some nice color in the sky. This was addictive: I shot many more times, changing direction, adjusting settings and each time, I liked what I was seeing in the display.</span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBgcujluEcg/XH8jAc7DHrI/AAAAAAAALi4/FyYlVrrBUxwoUxNlaOYcBf7UchhATEhSQCEwYBhgL/s1600/NCI%2B-%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBgcujluEcg/XH8jAc7DHrI/AAAAAAAALi4/FyYlVrrBUxwoUxNlaOYcBf7UchhATEhSQCEwYBhgL/s640/NCI%2B-%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">reminds me of "Starry Night"</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, it never occurred to me to check my focus or that the simple act of placing the camera in its bag could jostle the lens to be out of adjustment. After that first shot, I was so excited that I couldn’t bear to stop the whole operation to second-guess myself. Another factor was that it was cold and since the camera was relatively new, I couldn’t rely on a gloved hand to press the correct buttons and spin a wheel around. The photos look great and the composition appears to work with some lights in the foreground, but when they are enlarged, their flaws show through. </span><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ElM_s94TLvo/XH8jBEr_5cI/AAAAAAAALi8/acMLyO2RUVEV3bCy2z6qUKnq3ggXOl1DwCEwYBhgL/s1600/MAR3%2B-%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ElM_s94TLvo/XH8jBEr_5cI/AAAAAAAALi8/acMLyO2RUVEV3bCy2z6qUKnq3ggXOl1DwCEwYBhgL/s640/MAR3%2B-%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Diablo Dam, shot in daytime</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was not the end of my learning for the weekend. I had forgotten to bring shampoo and washed my hair with castile soap as a substitute. I'll never do that again.</span><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jJSin38Vvtg/XH8mCT9nGzI/AAAAAAAALjM/hikC7eR2PCAk-r_rEPSk_RcHlJ4qNkQ1ACLcBGAs/s1600/KER%2B-%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jJSin38Vvtg/XH8mCT9nGzI/AAAAAAAALjM/hikC7eR2PCAk-r_rEPSk_RcHlJ4qNkQ1ACLcBGAs/s640/KER%2B-%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Seattle from Kerry Park</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">The great thing about not having great shots from the weekend class is that I have room for improvement, a goal to strive for. Since the class, I have been out two more times in the dark (not a time of day I'm very comfortable with), shooting landscapes. My next project is to map out places around the city that have good vantage points and are not thronged with people, like Kerry Park was on a recent Monday.</span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Stay tuned for more nighttime photography!</span></span></div><br />Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-81175785411005252692019-02-20T18:09:00.000-08:002019-02-20T18:09:19.012-08:00Snowmageddon 2019<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We got snow! It's always exciting when it snows in Seattle since there are always a lot of unknowns: will it be as much as the forecasters predict, will it render the streets undrivable, will the city come to a standstill? This year, the answer was a resounding YES!&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Where I live, up on a ridge, at the elevation of 315', we had a total of 8 inches but on higher hills in other micro-climate zones, there was at least a foot of snow. While it's too late for a white Christmas, snow still brightens up an otherwise dreary, dark February so I did what all the other city dwellers out there did - I went out to experience it.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qfYfMWtrT4Q/XG4By38LFRI/AAAAAAAALZc/IbXh5zsgjsIGc0SyK5FU7yeTNV74NkzHwCLcBGAs/s1600/BLOG%2B-%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qfYfMWtrT4Q/XG4By38LFRI/AAAAAAAALZc/IbXh5zsgjsIGc0SyK5FU7yeTNV74NkzHwCLcBGAs/s640/BLOG%2B-%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">palm trees in Seattle<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_jTXFV8zUTI/XG4CJQSCJeI/AAAAAAAALZk/9QKwTl2SuHA22fmhxsAdJI7mFcdS1drKACLcBGAs/s1600/BLOG%2B-%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_jTXFV8zUTI/XG4CJQSCJeI/AAAAAAAALZk/9QKwTl2SuHA22fmhxsAdJI7mFcdS1drKACLcBGAs/s640/BLOG%2B-%2B2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of many X-C skiers at Green Lake<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I headed down to Green Lake, the closest park, which is known as a place for activities like walking, running and water sports. Today, the overwhelming majority of people were out enjoying the fresh snow on skis.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the lakeshore, where many times I have seen Great Blue Herons and Eagles, were mostly ducks. One was kind enough to swim in the frame to greatly improve the photo composition.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--dq9_uCC8V0/XG4CJTmnPhI/AAAAAAAALZ8/hQhbJr-3l1s3SPVWxQETr19y64W2hW9xwCEwYBhgL/s1600/BLOG%2B-%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--dq9_uCC8V0/XG4CJTmnPhI/AAAAAAAALZ8/hQhbJr-3l1s3SPVWxQETr19y64W2hW9xwCEwYBhgL/s640/BLOG%2B-%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thank you, duck<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The city is so beautiful with a fresh coat of snow, like having all the dirt and grime of past mistakes washed away and coated with a fresh coat of pearly white paint.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cb3jY6_Vjao/XG4CJhC2HHI/AAAAAAAALaA/c7Gwydqp3AIgLZNqroNeQJ_MWK9EGkyVACEwYBhgL/s1600/BLOG%2B-%2B5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Cb3jY6_Vjao/XG4CJhC2HHI/AAAAAAAALaA/c7Gwydqp3AIgLZNqroNeQJ_MWK9EGkyVACEwYBhgL/s640/BLOG%2B-%2B5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">transformed to black and white<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I arrived at a grove of Sequoias that I have always admired (and have thought about living beneath, should that situation ever arise). I started to run around them in a spontaneous burst of joy at their presence and, before reaching the last tree, looked down to see that I had been making tracks in a heart shape. I yelled out, "I heart trees!"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lQHVs0Xz-eQ/XG4CKMO2oyI/AAAAAAAALaE/CZoc6kw0WgY-z8Moyj7nBJMLs6K97Dd3gCEwYBhgL/s1600/BLOG%2B-%2B6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lQHVs0Xz-eQ/XG4CKMO2oyI/AAAAAAAALaE/CZoc6kw0WgY-z8Moyj7nBJMLs6K97Dd3gCEwYBhgL/s640/BLOG%2B-%2B6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I Heart Trees</td></tr></tbody></table></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-31263375566583236202019-01-07T12:12:00.000-08:002019-01-07T12:12:22.849-08:00Glacier Peak Wilderness Backpack, a life-changing trip<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-acpcq8nomRI/XDOf4ltH_bI/AAAAAAAAKzE/38GLDT-Dg8oBj4MHuvohOtYqtxLEjThWwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-acpcq8nomRI/XDOf4ltH_bI/AAAAAAAAKzE/38GLDT-Dg8oBj4MHuvohOtYqtxLEjThWwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0319.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miners Ridge Lookout</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHp_Y9xH6qA/XDOfryYu-7I/AAAAAAAAKzA/4rkwL-wiIlkkXdhIS2e4a47foDYJDKv1gCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHp_Y9xH6qA/XDOfryYu-7I/AAAAAAAAKzA/4rkwL-wiIlkkXdhIS2e4a47foDYJDKv1gCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0337.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">there was nothing left to carry</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; white-space: pre-wrap;">The trip had started as a one-way bacpack with a friend &nbsp;to the village of Holden where her church group was holding a retreat. While I was ruminating on how I would deal with the summer heat and holier than thou (literally) people, I was alerted to the fact that Holden had an outbreak of a water-borne bacteria that was causing diarrhea and vomiting and offering a full refund for those already registered. A full refund - you had me at diarrhea. I proposed a Trip B which would be an out-and-back to Image Lake, quite a picturesque destination. The friend bailed; she mentioned something about needing to save her vacation days. What? Save them for what - this was the premiere scenery experience in WA state, if not the entire Pacific Northwest. She acknowledged these facts and didn’t budge. I was on my own and not deterred one bit.</span><br /><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Day One</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made the “it seems longer than it used to be” drive to the trailhead on the Suiattle River Road, noting many more potholes than previously and, though there were cars at the parking lot, no people lingered there.It was 2pm on a Sunday and my first day was a relatively easy one. The trail was beautiful, as I had remembered it from day hikes, but there was a pick-up sticks-like jumbles of downed trees at one point where I had two choices, over or under. I probably didn’t choose the right one, but I made it to the other side safely, if shaken, while I contemplated all the ways I could have hurt or maimed myself, all while absolutely no one passed by on the trail.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YEquwjSjwlg/XDOgTK84pzI/AAAAAAAAKzM/k6ICHUBL7XsLzi2oa1o3f4hv5od3fwR9ACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YEquwjSjwlg/XDOgTK84pzI/AAAAAAAAKzM/k6ICHUBL7XsLzi2oa1o3f4hv5od3fwR9ACKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0335.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O2aLgmYdo9c/XDOgaMEodcI/AAAAAAAAKzQ/RkjaY45C7m4Vqwzr4dLu5QiaYCinYSUBwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O2aLgmYdo9c/XDOgaMEodcI/AAAAAAAAKzQ/RkjaY45C7m4Vqwzr4dLu5QiaYCinYSUBwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0334.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I arrived at Canyon Creek in a few hours and the campground was completely empty. I ventured on, across the suspension bridge and soon came to a junction with the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). In not too long, I saw the first person on the trail all day. He had a large bandage on his forehead which was very neat and clean. It looked downright professional. We stopped and had a brief exchange of words, his being that he was a thru-hiker and had </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">stumbled and fallen, head into a rock while hiking at night. He was going out to meet up with friends at the trailhead. He added, “I’m a nurse, so the last thing I want to do is go to the hospital.” I did not reveal my profession which, of course, is a nurse and if I had a huge gash on my head in the middle of the wilderness, I wouldn’t hesitate to get out and go to a hospital. </span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made it to the 9-mile camp which was not on my map but was at a much better location than Canyon Creek, as the trail leading up to Miners Ridge was within 200 yards and I would be heading there in the morning and able to get an early start before the heat came upon me. I set up my tent and was soon joined by a couple who were thru-hiking the PCT in WA state. This brought back some inner yearning in me, as I had a failed, dismal attempt of doing just that after graduating college. They were a young married couple and seemed to have the daily rituals and the separation of roles down to a science. One put up the tent and the other inflated the sleep pads with no words exchanged. They had &nbsp;many miles to home the daily duties of trail life and were able to do it seamlessly.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ulxaAoSL-qU/XDOg8AAcYDI/AAAAAAAAKzc/reMq7VlwqWoWTLjFn-v1jIe1UVQL_r-tQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ulxaAoSL-qU/XDOg8AAcYDI/AAAAAAAAKzc/reMq7VlwqWoWTLjFn-v1jIe1UVQL_r-tQCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_0259.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's me crossing the Canyon Creek Bridge</td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Soon, we were joined by a young guy with a gash on his leg - can you guess, it was from hiking at night. The days are long in July and the thru hikers put in 20+ miles per day so I had a question in my mind: why were there so many people hiking under the cover of darkness - what were they doing to squander their daylight? As more of a curiosity than anything else, I asked to see the guy’s wound and he showed it to me, without asking if I was qualified to give an opinion. I was expecting the worst, as he said he cleaned it up with some hand sanitizer (that means alcohol - ouch!). Surprisingly, it looked pretty good but I recommended he cover it so it would stay clean. I doubt he took my advice; he looked like he was not risk-averse.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fT6T_Q3_xiU/XDOhh5geElI/AAAAAAAAKzk/fJhdz5XGyGEMPj4aoFk7DtAAoLVVajYXwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fT6T_Q3_xiU/XDOhh5geElI/AAAAAAAAKzk/fJhdz5XGyGEMPj4aoFk7DtAAoLVVajYXwCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_0268.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suiattle River below, Glacier Peak above</td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Day Two</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Early in the morning, but not so early that I was the first one on the trail, as that belonged to the couple who were heading to Canada, I set out to start the climb up to the ridge. I was moving slowly, taking breaks every 45 minutes, a pattern I like to use when faced with a steep trail. Forty five minutes seems doable, an easily digestible chunk of time. This translates into any uncomfortable situation in life: waiting for a bus in the freezing cold, cycling up a mountain pass going 6mph, working at a job without feeling a passion, etc. I worked away at gaining elevation and was treated to a number of views, mostly of Glacier Peak, as I rose higher and higher. I was getting excited and when that happens, I lose myself in the scenery and I tend to not feel the weight of my pack, the grade feels like it levels out and I start to smile from within. I was getting nearer to the top of the ridge and ran into two women and a dog. I chose the right spot on the dog to pet and so I got some good dog love in exchange. One of the women who hailed from Vancouver, BC said. “The scenery is so good on the ridge, it’s life affirming, life changing scenery”. Yes, please, I need a life change. The responsibilities and stress of work had already started to wear on me and though I was carrying a heavy pack and shouldering problems on my own for this trip, it was much preferred to the every day repetitiveness of my profession. I was really ready for a change. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-voH72sGc6C0/XDOiA6Rax6I/AAAAAAAAKzw/xEv9aWWm9-8zjYS_JYykfNQMEkUgOjNKgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-voH72sGc6C0/XDOiA6Rax6I/AAAAAAAAKzw/xEv9aWWm9-8zjYS_JYykfNQMEkUgOjNKgCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0269.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6GuNcgo1UtA/XDOiA3XjHlI/AAAAAAAAKzw/IOKR8ujEr58yYYn6Sp3IuszRHbvhqzhgACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6GuNcgo1UtA/XDOiA3XjHlI/AAAAAAAAKzw/IOKR8ujEr58yYYn6Sp3IuszRHbvhqzhgACKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0271.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made the ridge, marvelling at the scenery which had been slowly developing, revealing more and more of Glacier Peak and the Suiattle River Valley below. From the ridge, I could see the full elevation from the valley to the peak, all 10,000 feet of it. It reminded me of a trip to the High Divide in the Olympics where Mt Olympus with its Blue Glacier is seen coming down the mountain like a highway and the Hoh River shines in the midday sun, like a jackpot of scenery, a seemingly unlikely pair, mountain and valley, all in the same eyeful. I set up camp just below Image Lake where I was the only backpacker. A short time later, Russ, the ranger who was living in the lookout tower on the ridge came over to greet me. During the course of our conversation, I was becoming more and more absorbed in the scenery and the magic of being in the mountains that I blurted out, “I’m going to give notice at my job in February and leave in May”. This sounded like a grand plan to Russ, knowing how precious time in the mountains is. Later when I visited him in the lookout tower and he made me a cup of chai tea with milk (yes, milk!), he revealed that his wife was coming up to join him, but only for four days. There was a pause. “Because she’s lost sight of the dream”, he continued. Yes, I know what you mean, I thought, recalling the friend who had bailed out on this trip. I wanted to scream, “I haven’t lost sight of the dream!” and I cemented the idea of leaving my job the following year, as scary as that sounded at the time.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JX9D4si2_lI/XDOik27_FaI/AAAAAAAAKz4/MDKejiCeM-QSsRSKjr00Hu3Jomy1ChbWgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JX9D4si2_lI/XDOik27_FaI/AAAAAAAAKz4/MDKejiCeM-QSsRSKjr00Hu3Jomy1ChbWgCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_0282.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_23Fdqk5j7U/XDOik1QCfEI/AAAAAAAAKz4/9Kxjac0dqr4hVFaamLT-wkT-Mhn_ZpS4ACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_23Fdqk5j7U/XDOik1QCfEI/AAAAAAAAKz4/9Kxjac0dqr4hVFaamLT-wkT-Mhn_ZpS4ACKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0281.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kdFMlab19ww/XDOik5csoGI/AAAAAAAAKz4/njzzpCqyZnAKNyychn_Uz1KiqQ7ecCpSwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kdFMlab19ww/XDOik5csoGI/AAAAAAAAKz4/njzzpCqyZnAKNyychn_Uz1KiqQ7ecCpSwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0279.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I spent a lot of time wandering around, mostly because I wanted to see all there was in this beautiful place, but also because the bugs were relentless. When I was moving, I barely noticed them, but when I stopped, it was like I was in a bug cloud. I wandered further long the trail toward Suiattle Pass when suddenly it looked like I had just found the secret portal to Switzerland. The mountains stretched out before me, there was brilliant green grass blowing in the breeze, flowers had popped up in all colors and I think if I listened closely enough, I could have heard a cow bell. Heaven! Shortly after, I ran into a couple of guys from the Tri-Cities were were doing a loop from the south. They were carrying gigantic packs and were out for 7-8 days, as they stated. I wondered what kind of food and gear they were carrying that would make their packs so large. It sounded from talking to them like they would be camped near me, but I never saw them again. I wandered on again and came upon a marmot who may have had a hearing problem; he allowed me to get very close and take a number of photos before disappearing down a nearby hole. While that may be a normal thing to see at Mt Rainier NP where it seems that people must feed those creatures, the way they lounge out on rocks seemingly oblivious of hikers nearby, there were far fewer visitors to his area.</span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Later, as the day came to a close, I went out again to see the sun set and the moon rise over the mountains. Then I tucked into my little tent in the oh-so-quiet backcountry and went to sleep.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YlfRBTYVtRs/XDOi9cAPC4I/AAAAAAAAK0A/eUx0vT9cXawnbQPFfSq1VI2uVTnMJ3YkQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YlfRBTYVtRs/XDOi9cAPC4I/AAAAAAAAK0A/eUx0vT9cXawnbQPFfSq1VI2uVTnMJ3YkQCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_0300.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the ghost of Glacier and my home, lower right</td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aKxkNdV9JqE/XDOjlsgZjxI/AAAAAAAAK0I/4XxlTASJkYQf4GQ3iGs9d7F4eyvILxcSACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aKxkNdV9JqE/XDOjlsgZjxI/AAAAAAAAK0I/4XxlTASJkYQf4GQ3iGs9d7F4eyvILxcSACKgBGAs/s640/IMG_0306.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">according to my camera, sunrise was at 0430</td></tr></tbody></table><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Day Three</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I never have been able to sleep very well in a tent, though I keep trying. The night had been relatively warm, there were no nocturnal visitors to my camp and I only got up to pee once. I still managed to get up early for the sunrise, “chasing daylight” as an old friend used to say when making the most of daylight hours in the summer, especially when there were at least 15 hours of daylight to chase. I watched the sun rise and cast light over Glacier Peak, then went back to bed for a little morning snooze. Sadly, I was going to have to leave this wondrous place, as I had reservations at my favorite place back in civilization (keeping that bit to myself so there will be a place for me in my fave place), though I kept trying to work out the math of trail miles to allow for an extra day of wandering. No, the hike out was 17 miles, not a distance I was willing to cover in one day with a heavy pack. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oI24i_M5E1w/XDOj91WCiKI/AAAAAAAAK0Q/o6YOVmexkxQ_x9naZlDaOYLcReFX1BC9wCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180724_101828914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oI24i_M5E1w/XDOj91WCiKI/AAAAAAAAK0Q/o6YOVmexkxQ_x9naZlDaOYLcReFX1BC9wCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_20180724_101828914.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made sure to pack up slowly and savor every moment in this beautiful place, though do so by moving, as the bugs caught on to my existence in their world just after sunrise. Cook some breakfast, gather some water, take some photos, wander a bit more without going too far away. </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ig0kZixbMNA/XDOxXHHLNTI/AAAAAAAAK0o/W9qB7opz8V025cwzIvOdysU8vSgXpWnAwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ig0kZixbMNA/XDOxXHHLNTI/AAAAAAAAK0o/W9qB7opz8V025cwzIvOdysU8vSgXpWnAwCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_0287.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WP2A1U_0R6c/XDOxXHCkwhI/AAAAAAAAK0o/B_ieRCLx_JcBQSlPtp2VsTlGtfAYbQK7ACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180723_201104239_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WP2A1U_0R6c/XDOxXHCkwhI/AAAAAAAAK0o/B_ieRCLx_JcBQSlPtp2VsTlGtfAYbQK7ACKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20180723_201104239_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2M1xroPVgqQ/XDOxXAblBNI/AAAAAAAAK0o/wPknPfE655o0kHPjkmBftufPCq61DHcaQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2M1xroPVgqQ/XDOxXAblBNI/AAAAAAAAK0o/wPknPfE655o0kHPjkmBftufPCq61DHcaQCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_0311.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After lunch, I reluctantly set out on the trail and headed down to the PCT, where I saw my first people of the day, 10 girls who looked to be in their early teens and 2 women who looked to be in their 20s. I had stopped for a break and asked them if they were an organized group. They were part of something called Peak 7 which teaches girls about the backcountry. After my trip, I went to their website and this was the summary: “</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e3227; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peak 7 Adventures is a faith-based non-profit providing </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e3227; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">life-changing</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3e3227; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> outdoor adventures to marginalized young people across the Pacific Northwest”. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life changing, there it was again. It wasn’t just me and the two women from Vancouver below Miners Ridge who felt this way; a lot of people were seeking and even finding either a reason or an inspiration to change their lives. How was I going to change mine? How was this trip going to have a lasting effect on my life?</span></div><b style="color: black; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not long after, I saw a guy coming toward me with what was easily the largest backpack I have ever seen. And he was a big guy, sweating profusely in a long-sleeved shirt. His pack included an ice axe and helmet dangling off the back. He said he was going to do a scramble of the Bath Ridge peaks, then circle back around off-trail and end up back at the parking lot, this last bit sounding like wishful thinking, magical thoughts. I had a mild urge to follow him on his journey, partly for the adventure of it, but mostly because it looked like he was a good candidate for a heart attack with the combination of heavy pack, hot temps and extra personal weight and I was again in my nurse mode, trying to save the humans.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fhrd38wc9Hk/XDOxort8esI/AAAAAAAAK0s/OwefwYO1en0ZP8GtiJOatzIDMnqHbiVVwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fhrd38wc9Hk/XDOxort8esI/AAAAAAAAK0s/OwefwYO1en0ZP8GtiJOatzIDMnqHbiVVwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0329.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's me on the return trip</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><b style="color: black; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next person I met on the trail was like closing the loop of people, it was Ranger Russ’ wife! It didn’t take me too long to figure it out once she mentioned where she was headed. I </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">felt a rush of sympathy for her (she’s lost sight of the dream, after all) but also of superiority (I haven’t lost it). But mainly, she seemed very independent and confident and maybe being with her husband in a small tower was just not something she was willing to do. Amen to that.</span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzgU0kAEuZI/XDOxy0lxaGI/AAAAAAAAK00/fFa5BeGMRQ42ceZTlIrCa708A8yv4vSugCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rzgU0kAEuZI/XDOxy0lxaGI/AAAAAAAAK00/fFa5BeGMRQ42ceZTlIrCa708A8yv4vSugCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0330.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">rocks, the stuff mountains are made of</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LPkaYmUvjJQ/XDOxy0RC7VI/AAAAAAAAK00/uIVs4ygh9NwnTphq8deqgY8KCB1ACjKUgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LPkaYmUvjJQ/XDOxy0RC7VI/AAAAAAAAK00/uIVs4ygh9NwnTphq8deqgY8KCB1ACjKUgCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0331.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I continued on to Canyon Creek where I made my last camp for the trip. While I was completely alone up by Image Lake except for a marmot or two, at the lower camp along the river, it was swarming with people. People, their dogs and children all contributed to a cacophony of sounds in addition to the rushing of water. I saw it as transitioning back to civilization but it was a little too much, too soon.</span></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4UE5_SDPdwY/XDOx-vSL5qI/AAAAAAAAK04/WI1tOcM1clISjx-MZ_-lZAHUAX-unXaIwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4UE5_SDPdwY/XDOx-vSL5qI/AAAAAAAAK04/WI1tOcM1clISjx-MZ_-lZAHUAX-unXaIwCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_0332.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">looks devilish</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruubpUz00jg/XDOx-uZ9k8I/AAAAAAAAK04/OXhlHC9SYGg5eG58W2DVl349YpUmyY89gCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruubpUz00jg/XDOx-uZ9k8I/AAAAAAAAK04/OXhlHC9SYGg5eG58W2DVl349YpUmyY89gCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_0336.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: -webkit-standard; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></b><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Day Four </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hiked the rest of the way out without seeing other people on the trail. At the pick-up-sticks of trees across the trail, I chose the safe way and didn’t get muddy. I had a small heart attack when I looked into the parking lot and didn’t see my car, but she was hidden behind a van, probably belonging to the Peak 7 group. My car was intact and all my gear for the next part of the adventure (at my fave place, remember) was safe. And so I continue on to the next adventure...</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3p87qwK-3fY/XDOyKsG4RnI/AAAAAAAAK08/WMHhk0BarKsx9J4Qu1B22DlHrKv6KKlFACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3p87qwK-3fY/XDOyKsG4RnI/AAAAAAAAK08/WMHhk0BarKsx9J4Qu1B22DlHrKv6KKlFACKgBGAs/s640/IMG_0339.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">feet stayed happy in trail running shoes</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot;; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><br />Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-4625800525719094302018-06-11T19:14:00.001-07:002018-06-11T19:14:52.829-07:00Flower Geeking in the Teanaway<span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">It's that time of year, late spring, when flowers are busting out everywhere around the city, but also in the Central Cascades where the snow melts sooner. There's no better way to see these beauties than to hike in the Teanaway, north of Cle Elum, with a group of Mountaineer flower geeks. The trail was 6 miles round trip with 1,200' of gain, but we were taking it easy and making lots of gawking stops and photo opps.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9V7x7FQSa6k/Wxipn5ND_sI/AAAAAAAAJQY/U3jp1ZTLLZ8EBTiAKx1-aQZ76FFmiqTswCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/P1040261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9V7x7FQSa6k/Wxipn5ND_sI/AAAAAAAAJQY/U3jp1ZTLLZ8EBTiAKx1-aQZ76FFmiqTswCK4BGAYYCw/s320/P1040261.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Balsamroot and Lichen</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-juu7FUG9xhc/Wxip-OY2zyI/AAAAAAAAJQk/kTldpnxGtKQ1s_eLZd1VSecFDZnMiImugCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/P1040267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-juu7FUG9xhc/Wxip-OY2zyI/AAAAAAAAJQk/kTldpnxGtKQ1s_eLZd1VSecFDZnMiImugCK4BGAYYCw/s400/P1040267.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Demon Butterfly - no, but that's what it looks like up close</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Ezw2zp987k/WxiqyV-21dI/AAAAAAAAJQw/SIeTMtZGq5YnXTDaHu50ehO-jvjKOcUjQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/P1040265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Ezw2zp987k/WxiqyV-21dI/AAAAAAAAJQw/SIeTMtZGq5YnXTDaHu50ehO-jvjKOcUjQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/P1040265.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Stuart and me</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">There were species like Trillium and Arrowleaf Balsamroot that were on their way out, but &nbsp;also making an appearance was Scarlet Gilia blooming early. Further up on the ridge was a great view of Mt Stuart and I couldn't help but position myself in front of the range. And Bitterroot (Native Americans must have eaten a lot of these roots and named them aptly, though I didn't do any nibbling), the close-to-the-ground showstopper that is often so hard to find. We were in a veritable field of them, relatively speaking, and had to be careful not to trod on one. They were glowing in the midday sun.</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xFI-TSlbdOc/WxisbyqBkII/AAAAAAAAJQ8/TMfOxsYIOXofMuff98EhtHEl0EO5_u9QgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/P1040271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xFI-TSlbdOc/WxisbyqBkII/AAAAAAAAJQ8/TMfOxsYIOXofMuff98EhtHEl0EO5_u9QgCK4BGAYYCw/s640/P1040271.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bitterroot</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">We all made the summit and had views out to the Enchantments, the Stuart Range, Mt Rainier and a lot of local peaks that, between us, we had all collectively summitted.&nbsp;</span>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-36821832031525743512018-05-28T20:24:00.000-07:002018-05-28T20:24:12.682-07:00Lopez Island, May<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I had been meaning to return to Lopez Island for quite some time but never had the time or enough motivation to overcome some obstacles to travel. The first obstacle, like a hoop to jump through, was the ferry. The WA State Ferries are pretty amazing in that they provide consistent service to islands and to peninsulas all over the Puget Sound. But they can get very busy during times of good weather. Luckily, when I booked my place on Lopez, the proprietor suggested I make a ferry reservation even though it was only May, a month when the weather is very changeable.&nbsp;</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jydKIUxmnBo/WwDkQAmjW3I/AAAAAAAAJII/-bqNlWf66do_kb8m_UbjG8sRW8g-fCJbQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180512_095930228.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jydKIUxmnBo/WwDkQAmjW3I/AAAAAAAAJII/-bqNlWf66do_kb8m_UbjG8sRW8g-fCJbQCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20180512_095930228.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">along the beach walk by the Anacortes ferry</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1CEgR3OcWM/WwDkQOSNVkI/AAAAAAAAJII/0_gZ3dsA_uEH8yt2QulbQ_NJxHrSAZXkgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180512_110723994.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P1CEgR3OcWM/WwDkQOSNVkI/AAAAAAAAJII/0_gZ3dsA_uEH8yt2QulbQ_NJxHrSAZXkgCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20180512_110723994.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view from the ferry</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rnuhl5Fnyus/WwDkQO7DRDI/AAAAAAAAJII/pBtOaaaQu9gdo5rQC5b8vH-YhTniMdAjgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180512_110625331.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rnuhl5Fnyus/WwDkQO7DRDI/AAAAAAAAJII/pBtOaaaQu9gdo5rQC5b8vH-YhTniMdAjgCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20180512_110625331.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I got through the ferry tollbooth an hour early, as instructed, and had time to walk the beach trail for a while before boarding the boat. The boat was full of bikes, most of them bound for Lopez, as it's relatively flat as far as islands go, though it's not flat. But there's another reason why cyclists flock to Lopez, the "Friendly Island". The drivers all wave to cyclists; in fact, they don't stop at waving to cyclists, they wave at other drivers and at pedestrians, too. For all I know, the drivers may as well wave to the bunnies and deer that hop and lope, respectively, about the island as well. Because they are really good at waving.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I had to remind myself of that as I disembarked and headed for Lopez Village. Whoops, I forgot to wave. Well, I guess the islanders&nbsp;figure out pretty quickly who lives there and who doesn't. Once at the village, I had lunch, then headed for the beach. I was at the top of the stairs that lead down to the beach when I saw a golden retriever waiting to retrieve. He looked at me and took a couple of steps backwards, anticipating running after whatever I was going to throw. I had nothing to throw so I pretended to throw something. The dog was too smart for that and didn't move from his spot. I went down to the beach and the dog became more excited, backing up so that he was in the water. His eyes were saying, "THROW IT!". So I picked up a rock and threw it into the water and, predictably, the dog went after it, however, unlike all other dogs I've played this trick with, this retriever was programmed to bring something to me. He poked his snout around under the water and eventually appeared with a rock in his mouth. It wasn't the same rock that I had thrown in, but it was a rock. This went on for some time, until I was tired and it was time to check in to my lodging.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Nz8uSdX7Bo/WwDnbN2H9kI/AAAAAAAAJIU/vjD24Ad-bV0P0znE5UXxqObYrTlqv8NdACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180512_133958831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Nz8uSdX7Bo/WwDnbN2H9kI/AAAAAAAAJIU/vjD24Ad-bV0P0znE5UXxqObYrTlqv8NdACKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20180512_133958831.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">made friends quickly</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--cwK5TbOkzo/WwywupB_qcI/AAAAAAAAJOs/U4CmaMx_f7IsUrWlg2DsFO8_a21rYvOGQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180512_203845054_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--cwK5TbOkzo/WwywupB_qcI/AAAAAAAAJOs/U4CmaMx_f7IsUrWlg2DsFO8_a21rYvOGQCKgBGAs/s640/IMG_20180512_203845054_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunset on Fisherman Bay</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was staying right on Fisherman Bay, with boats going by outside and incredible sunsets happening each evening. Pretty. Special.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next day was my birthday and the plan was to not act my age, so I started the day by renting a kayak and paddling to Canoe Island, off the north end of Lopez Island. The guy who set me up with the rental cautioned me about the waves from the ferry and I made it my goal to beach on the island before the wake reached me.</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DADNGjRKeFQ/WwyyfVuMPzI/AAAAAAAAJO8/grEol8vrYZ82wvNyFXXOXuIE4PilmQTwgCLcBGAs/s1600/P1040224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DADNGjRKeFQ/WwyyfVuMPzI/AAAAAAAAJO8/grEol8vrYZ82wvNyFXXOXuIE4PilmQTwgCLcBGAs/s400/P1040224.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">beached on Canoe Island</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UJwT6jyJ7FY/WwyyfHUj6pI/AAAAAAAAJO4/kQZ99e8CRj0oeek2KdizJoQfQ-LlBPURgCLcBGAs/s1600/P1040227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UJwT6jyJ7FY/WwyyfHUj6pI/AAAAAAAAJO4/kQZ99e8CRj0oeek2KdizJoQfQ-LlBPURgCLcBGAs/s400/P1040227.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olympics off the bow</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wasn't able to go ashore beyond the beach due to all the "No Trespassing" signs, but later learned that there is a French language immersion camp on the island, "ah, oui". I appreciated the solitude on the beach, had a snack and was back on my way to return to Lopez, cruising in on the flood tide.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part of defying my age meant being able to do many activities in one day, so after a refreshing nap, I set out on my bicycle for a little of my own Tour de Lopez.&nbsp;</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2Wa-fuVuac/Wwy0D7HgXvI/AAAAAAAAJPM/GOv9anD3ecwmzsd5H40FlFrm64yiBk3mwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180513_184712562_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2Wa-fuVuac/Wwy0D7HgXvI/AAAAAAAAJPM/GOv9anD3ecwmzsd5H40FlFrm64yiBk3mwCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20180513_184712562_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Joseph Catholic Church</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aRa9YZYHfzU/Wwy0TOrpE6I/AAAAAAAAJPQ/-ofAGdQp7DQ833C6e9Qx-wFyiJZyaxnkwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180512_195121331_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aRa9YZYHfzU/Wwy0TOrpE6I/AAAAAAAAJPQ/-ofAGdQp7DQ833C6e9Qx-wFyiJZyaxnkwCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20180512_195121331_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shark Reef</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FegKWoYJZZ8/Wwy0D7IOtOI/AAAAAAAAJPM/dCOfHaI_kJINKzXfBLUwd-XmSm7rGucVgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180513_182354477_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FegKWoYJZZ8/Wwy0D7IOtOI/AAAAAAAAJPM/dCOfHaI_kJINKzXfBLUwd-XmSm7rGucVgCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20180513_182354477_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the view from View Rd</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, that was nice, then it was time for a quick dinner and back into the kayak for the sunset. I forgot my camera but then decided it would be better if I just paddled and stayed in the moment, sans documentation. The water was very still in Fisherman Bay&nbsp;and the sky was preparing for some drama, wispy clouds lining up in feathery patterns. My paddles dipped rhythmically, left and right, and I felt one with the water. I gazed down into the water and saw the sky, a flock of birds flying by, in the water, the sky. They became one and I was part of the scenery, floating in the sky, on water.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I came across a napping seal, his body swelling and breaching the surface as he inhaled, then dropping down below the water as he exhaled. Inhale, exhale, up, down until I nearly fell asleep myself.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-64387634540250858412016-05-22T21:46:00.002-07:002016-05-22T21:46:40.630-07:00A Funny Thing Happened...<div dir="ltr"><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p_LW9TVzC44/V0KJcjGhzhI/AAAAAAAAFvs/YsRfgHkvpLo4w4LpXSndGmVXZK5T6eqEQCLcB/s1600/lower-lewis-river-falls-jpldesigns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p_LW9TVzC44/V0KJcjGhzhI/AAAAAAAAFvs/YsRfgHkvpLo4w4LpXSndGmVXZK5T6eqEQCLcB/s320/lower-lewis-river-falls-jpldesigns.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lewis River Falls</td></tr></tbody></table>A funny thing happened on my way down to Hood River, Oregon last week. I went for a bike ride along the way. No, that's not the funny part; I'll get to that in a bit. I had found a route on <a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/13518536">Ride with GPS</a> that followed the Lewis River from Battle Ground, then went up the hill to Yacolt and some very remote areas, looping back to the start. Then I searched for a place to have something to eat and change my clothes before and after. The spot was called <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/old-town-battle-grounds-battle-ground" target="_blank">Old Town Battle Grounds</a>, a Stumptown – serving coffee shop inside a converted church – perfect for a Sunday rider who worships good coffee and bicycles.<br /><br /></div>After fueling up and changing into my pink jersey, I set out to the first section along the river. I was on the river side of the road, following the Lewis River eastward, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream. I was one woman on a bicycle in the midst of hundreds of cars – that is, hundreds of courteous drivers and one jerk. The jerk was in a big red truck, most likely American-made and had a noisy engine. Unlike everyone who passed by easily and quickly, this guy (I'm assuming) roared by and then had his truck "fart" thick black smoke in my general direction. I had to laugh (yes, this <i>is</i> the funny thing) just thinking of what his dashboard might look like. I pictured a button that read, "Cyclist" that he pushed when passing a lowlife two-wheeler like me to let me know who was boss. He passed by me soon enough and after the smoke cleared, I kept on my route, enjoying the rollercoaster-like hills up and down and around we go, through beautiful countryside.<br /><br /></div><div>As often happens when I am following a cue sheet created by someone else, I begin to feel like I can trust the author who had, up to that point, steered me in the right direction. But when I turned right into a church parking lot with signs saying "No Outlet", I was a little skeptical. At the far end of the lot was a locked car-sized gate, but to the right of it was an unlocked person-sized gate. How I love secret passageways! An entry into another world, an exclusive path just for me. On the other side of the gate was a neighborhood and some kids on bikes who looked like they might be hoodlums and perhaps were going to give me a hard time for entering their private world. I soon realized that I had nothing to fear, as these kids looked up at me like an apparition had just materialized. They each had a "Where did you come from?" kind of a look on their faces as they waved and said hello. I responded in kind as if my presence there were just an everyday occurrence and kept on rolling down the street. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l7_i-tfpqEY/V0KJIa29X-I/AAAAAAAAFvo/Qj4b5-oag8c2LIm4Avdh-zVGZAitMC3_gCLcB/s1600/Screenshot%2B2016-05-22%2B19.32.29.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l7_i-tfpqEY/V0KJIa29X-I/AAAAAAAAFvo/Qj4b5-oag8c2LIm4Avdh-zVGZAitMC3_gCLcB/s320/Screenshot%2B2016-05-22%2B19.32.29.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div>I continued on the rollercoaster back toward town, noting that there was a lot of car traffic on just about every road. The cue sheet told me to go to Parkway which evoked images of the Parkways I have known: Bronx River Parkway, Saw Mill Parkway, etc. Though they are park-like with an abundance of trees, they are not a place for a bicycle. But once again, I trusted my cue sheet and turned down Parkway to find that it was a 25 mph-posted street with no cars on it.<br /><br />I ended the ride much like I had started it; I headed for the coffee shop to change and grab a bit to eat. But this time, the smile on my face was from the accumulated experiences and scenery gained on the route.</div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-18152690517622747312016-05-06T21:01:00.000-07:002016-05-06T21:01:58.498-07:00Bike and Bus Ride<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iqcmvNQTUWI/Vy1nvXZ8kPI/AAAAAAAAFvI/nMq2UGxiOv8tKtsOTBBbMtTd7KTfMrTjgCLcB/s1600/photo%2B3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iqcmvNQTUWI/Vy1nvXZ8kPI/AAAAAAAAFvI/nMq2UGxiOv8tKtsOTBBbMtTd7KTfMrTjgCLcB/s320/photo%2B3.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">biking on the bus</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I love an adventure and two modes I use for exploring is bicycle and bus. I set off from North Seattle on my bike heading north and east on a route I found using google (who would have ever thought it would come to this – computers telling us where to go). I rode through Hamlin Park which I had heard of but had never been to. It was beautiful forest and the park road becomes a paved trail at the eastern end. Well, it may be paved, but it is full of bumps and lumps, narrowing as it goes. I managed to get out of there just as I was thinking it wasn't such a good idea after all. But then came the descent toward Lake Washington and the smile came back to my face.<br /><br /></div>I continued along the lake, then turned north on a route toward Mill Creek that I had only just learned earlier in the week on a Cascade ride. Of course, I added a scenic interlude to make things more interesting, but soon was rolling into Main Street Mill Creek. Somehow, I resisted stopping at Spotted Cow Coffee, the best coffee north of Seattle, instead continuing east. It was a consolation gift to be on the smooth, low-traffic roads of Mill Creek that encircle the golf club. <br /><br /></div>Next, I worked my way down toward Broadway to head south. On the way, I was honked at (what year is this – I thought drivers got over that in the 90s) and passed very closely. I kept my hands and fingers to myself, but made a mental note to change the route to avoid that section. When I got to Broadway, there was construction to repair the road surface which meant that the surface was currently far from ideal. However, because of the work, traffic was stopped some distance behind me and so I had the road to myself. I rode up to a flagger while the traffic ahead of me was stopped and he reported that I was the nth cyclist he'd seen that day. He asked me how far I had ridden and when I told him (at that point it was 30), he confessed that he had a strong desire to ride more but for now he would have to be happy with rides with his kids on bmx bikes. I was sent on my way with wishes for a safe ride, which would come in handy in not too long.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WI8nRQx_qU/Vy1nvev--gI/AAAAAAAAFvQ/KSPpn6IPtjgpa5qrDOVjKQtZLXYK4tz5gCKgB/s1600/photo%2B1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WI8nRQx_qU/Vy1nvev--gI/AAAAAAAAFvQ/KSPpn6IPtjgpa5qrDOVjKQtZLXYK4tz5gCKgB/s320/photo%2B1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doggy Haven Resort </td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>It was on Paradise Lake Road, normally a serene rolling road in the country that I redeemed those good wishes. All of them. I may have used them for double their face value. While it may be a lightly traveled road on the weekend, during the week it was transformed into a terrifying torrent of trucks. Between the good wishes and my pink jersey which screams "I'm a Girl!", I was somehow granted safe passage, making it to Bear Creek Road without a scratch, though definitely shaken.<br /><br /></div>Luckily, the worst of the ride was over and then the only worry was finding my way to downtown Redmond. My cue sheet told me to turn on an avenue that didn't seem to exist. Yes, I still use cue sheets. Normally, in this part of the cycling universe, I am with a group known as Goosebumps which has very skilled leaders who know all the secret passageways, allowing me to just follow along blindly. Maybe I have been a bit too blind because I went through Tuscany (neighborhood with huge homes, manicured lawns and 2-car garages), came out the other end at The Hedges (even larger homes with 3 or 4-car garages) and knew I was in the wrong place. I consulted my phone's map and headed back, still with no conclusion. Just as I thought I would never get out of that suburban maze, I decided to go for it and roll down a trail in the forest. Voila! I had escaped to ride in the country once more and was on my way, making it to Redmond's quaint downtown in no time.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nfp6Sk77aJs/Vy1nvYr8y1I/AAAAAAAAFvM/kdqsHGgTfH8bDI5QfXiRAsdWSYfx5k5bQCKgB/s1600/photo%2B2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nfp6Sk77aJs/Vy1nvYr8y1I/AAAAAAAAFvM/kdqsHGgTfH8bDI5QfXiRAsdWSYfx5k5bQCKgB/s320/photo%2B2.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">secret passageway</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>I rolled up to the Transit station, checked the schedule and saw that I had about ten minutes until my coach came. Yes, a fancy coach; the eastside gets a better transit option with cush seats for a cyclist's tush, luggage rack and even overhead reading lights. Not bad for paying a mere $3.00. In no time, I had loaded my bike and was enjoying another kind of ride.<br /><br /></div></div>Route: <a href="https://ridewithgps.com/routes/7363882">https://ridewithgps.com/routes/7363882</a> <br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-91285720326612911302015-11-15T18:30:00.002-08:002015-11-15T18:30:35.807-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge #7<div class="mobile-photo"></div><div class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9iBTw9qYDDI/Vkk8DKiFLmI/AAAAAAAAFmA/QHouX4bDtlE/s1600/photo%2B2-775334.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6217566785626254946" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9iBTw9qYDDI/Vkk8DKiFLmI/AAAAAAAAFmA/QHouX4bDtlE/s320/photo%2B2-775334.JPG" /></a></div><div class="mobile-photo"></div><div class="mobile-photo"></div><div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><br /></div>I had a grand plan for my final <a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/2015/11/13/coffeeneuring-challenge-final-weekend-cross-the-finish-line-friends/" target="_blank">Coffeeneuring Challenge</a> outing: a hybrid of going out for coffee and coffee outside. I would ride to the Ballard Sunday Market where Convoy Coffee slow brews coffee from their bicycle-driven cart. Perfect – I get to drink a hot cup of coffee outside after someone else does all the hard work. No packing up my Pocket Rocket, fuel, kettle, water, Aeropress, etc for a little cup of coffee.<br /><br /></div>I arrived at the Market a bit later than I had planned (hey, if you're going to get a flat, let it be in the warmth and dryness of your home) and there were scores of people ambling about, looking at cheeses, meats, pastries, but where oh where was the coffee cart? I walked my bike down and then up the street, with no sight of those guys. But then I saw Anchored Ship Coffee in a tiny storefront and thought maybe it was time for a change in plan. <br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mP0hGEwxho4/Vkk8EAk17EI/AAAAAAAAFmY/cOZTgvcEd74/s1600/photo%2B4-779414.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6217566800133352514" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mP0hGEwxho4/Vkk8EAk17EI/AAAAAAAAFmY/cOZTgvcEd74/s320/photo%2B4-779414.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">coffee fits in the bottle cage</td></tr></tbody></table>I parked my bike inside using the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy, then ordered a Cafe au Lait. After I shelled out $3 (ok, so it was with soymilk – maybe they make it in-house), they filled up my personal cup (yes, I was prepared) with drip from a carafe that had been sitting out there who knows how long and some soymilk. Ouch! Well, this is Ballard, my friends, and they gotta pay their rent. I took a few sips and it tasted like plain ol' drip with some unsweetened soymilk added. I could have gone on that group ride after all and had that big box corporate coffee they were planning on stopping at (it starts with a "T") because that way, I would at least be deliriously happy from the bike ride itself.<br /><br /></div>As I was riding off toward home, I saw Convoy Coffee at the corner where I had passed just 10 minutes earlier. Had I missed them, or had they just shown up. No matter, I had already gotten a full cup of coffee and spent my allotted funds, so off I went. About one long light and five blocks later, I stopped, emptied my cup out onto an already-saturated plot of grass and headed back down the street to get some decent coffee made by two guys with an Aeropress on a cart pulled with a bicycle. But they were no longer at the corner; I didn't have the patience or time or energy to get through that crowd-filled market one more time to search for them. I switched out coffee for my water bottle and rode home.<br /><br />I am sure I will be continuing my own Coffeeneuring adventures after the challenge is officially over, so I will get another chance to catch up with those bicycle-riding coffee-making guys. Plus, I will be sporting my spiffy Coffeeneuring Challenge patch.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1FEJekA4gVU/Vkk_QLwFpKI/AAAAAAAAFmk/-99DtZ0NgT4/s1600/coffeeneuring-alt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1FEJekA4gVU/Vkk_QLwFpKI/AAAAAAAAFmk/-99DtZ0NgT4/s320/coffeeneuring-alt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div class="gmail_signature"><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-84853251290473820292015-11-11T18:34:00.000-08:002015-11-11T18:43:15.712-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge #6: Spotted Cow Cream & Bean<br />While I am not a veteran (of a war, that is; I am definitely a cycling veteran, but that is not what we're talking about today), I had requested to take this Wednesday off to honor my sanity which has been dwindling. Between being an introvert and having a patient at work who has had her meds reduced, rendering her a question station, I really needed s break.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TF1Fbr4mt4k/VkP3pCyenMI/AAAAAAAAFlY/IFvB9TlbyS0/s1600/photo%2B2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TF1Fbr4mt4k/VkP3pCyenMI/AAAAAAAAFlY/IFvB9TlbyS0/s320/photo%2B2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's Maxwell, head roaster/manager</td></tr></tbody></table>And today,&nbsp; I was lucky – the sun came out! I even got to ride on a brand-new patch of asphalt while the cars had to stay on the gravel. Woo! Woo!<br /><br />I had been meaning to ride up to Mill Creek's cute downtown area to go to <a href="http://www.spottedcowcoffeecompany.com/" target="_blank">Spotted Cow</a> for quite a while. I believe they are the only coffee shop in the area that roasts their single origin beans on-site. Although their bike parking was not directly in front of or even beside their store (I locked my bike to outside seating so I could keep an eye on it), they were very friendly to me and gave me kudos for having ridden my bike there.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I2e1g21oi1w/VkP3o5N14RI/AAAAAAAAFlc/SUmn8eWV07s/s1600/photo%2B1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I2e1g21oi1w/VkP3o5N14RI/AAAAAAAAFlc/SUmn8eWV07s/s320/photo%2B1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">everything to make a ride great</td></tr></tbody></table><br />After getting my soy latte and a chocolate macaroon cookie, I couldn't find anywhere to sit, so I asked a gentleman if I could share his table. He was on his laptop and I was trying not to disturb him as a laid out my accoutrements for a photo. But he was curious as to where I had ridden from, how many miles total, do I ride with other people, am I training for an event. It turns out he used to ride a little and he recounted for me a trip he took from Spokane to Lake Chelan on a Schwinn with four working gears that his butt will never let him forget. Aside from his backside, his other reason for not riding is due to lack of time. Of course, he has time to hang out at the local coffee shop chatting with a woman who is trying to rekindle his cycling flame. I mentioned this to him and he smiled. I have planted the seed; with time and interest, it may grow;&nbsp; I will have to return here to see if there is another bike parked outside.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e1TqQ4Jqg7E/VkP3ow_4opI/AAAAAAAAFlg/qJmniDgSWes/s1600/photo%2B3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e1TqQ4Jqg7E/VkP3ow_4opI/AAAAAAAAFlg/qJmniDgSWes/s320/photo%2B3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">words to live by</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Spotted Cow Coffee<br />15118 Main Street<br />Mill Creek, WA<br /><br /><br /><br />Total Miles: 25Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-88679724338017789492015-11-07T21:31:00.000-08:002015-11-15T21:32:50.513-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge #5: Ballard Coffee Works<div class="mobile-photo"></div><div class="mobile-photo"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mW2EqxCXd-4/Vkln5_eCfPI/AAAAAAAAFm4/PL8A8dgVBno/s1600/The%2BBlob.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mW2EqxCXd-4/Vkln5_eCfPI/AAAAAAAAFm4/PL8A8dgVBno/s320/The%2BBlob.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November is the season of the blob</td></tr></tbody></table>Look out – the blob is coming! November in Seattle is all about rain and since I ride a lot for transportation, I spend a fair amount of time analyzing the local radar for storms. Green is light rain, yellow is hard rain and red is cats and dogs (or fish, in my case). Like the time I was riding home from work and I thought I heard the sound of a fish flopping... on the road. It was the beginning of a heavy rainstorm, no doubt colored red on the radar.<br /><br />I waited patiently for the blob to pass through and that was followed by more rain, but just green rain. It looked like a lot of drops when I looked outside, but I decided to take a chance on the rain in order to get a good cup of coffee.<br /><br />The rain was pretty light, what I like to think of as a refreshing mist, like an outdoor spa treatment. A few minutes into the ride, I was reminded of how much I love to ride in light rain. It wasn't too long ago that my ideal weather for a good ride was "58 degrees and light rain", as my mantra went. My preferences have changed a little since then, but a nice misting is certainly welcome, especially when it is followed by warming up at a spacious yet cozy cafe serving a smooth espresso.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iLCWgEpkw70/VkI_aPCm8yI/AAAAAAAAFk4/e2tO91wiwvg/s1600/photo%2B1-783557.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6215600155671327522" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iLCWgEpkw70/VkI_aPCm8yI/AAAAAAAAFk4/e2tO91wiwvg/s320/photo%2B1-783557.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the only bike out there</td></tr></tbody></table>Ballard Coffee Works is on Market Street at 22nd Ave, smack in the middle of Ballard. The building used to be a Tully's and there is currently a Starbucks across the street. But the cafe was packed! Lucky for me there were no kids inside because I found a small table near the kiddie play area where I could look outside toward my bike. A special day for the Surly, she sported her green shopping bag which was velcroed onto the saddle to protect it from rain (thus protecting my rear).<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H59oN3hAt6I/VkI_ax6usFI/AAAAAAAAFlA/jKcnmpxSfSo/s1600/photo%2B2-786811.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6215600165033521234" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H59oN3hAt6I/VkI_ax6usFI/AAAAAAAAFlA/jKcnmpxSfSo/s320/photo%2B2-786811.JPG" /></a>I enjoyed a smooth Soy Latte and then purchased a bag of coffee to take to my lucky workmates.<br /><br />Ballard Coffee Works<br />2060 NW Market St<br />Seattle, WA 98107<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-39745512652493594582015-10-24T13:38:00.000-07:002015-11-11T18:35:18.854-08:00Coffeeneuring #4: All City Coffee<div class="mobile-photo"></div><div class="mobile-photo"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PLEyV-XR3fc/VjJK2laYVEI/AAAAAAAAFj8/DorlUIqpaiM/s1600/photo%2B2-736954.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211109137713484866" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PLEyV-XR3fc/VjJK2laYVEI/AAAAAAAAFj8/DorlUIqpaiM/s320/photo%2B2-736954.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bike parking outside</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="mobile-photo"></div><div class="mobile-photo"></div><div class="mobile-photo"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eyv-WSgz60s/VjJK15TgNjI/AAAAAAAAFjw/0p5nsKh6U-Y/s1600/photo%2B1-733472.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211109125873481266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eyv-WSgz60s/VjJK15TgNjI/AAAAAAAAFjw/0p5nsKh6U-Y/s320/photo%2B1-733472.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Space Odyssey Beacon Hill</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It started off as a fine adventure, riding downtown and snubbing the bike lanes on 2nd Avenue that seem like an accident waiting to happen. I took a car lane, flew through downtown faster than bikes, buses and cars, green lights all the way to Royal Brougham at the Link Light Rail's Stadium Station. Just say "light rail" or "train" – it's easier. OK, so I was tired and I wanted a break, a little bump to get me up to Beacon Hill. Some might call it cheating; I call it an adventure. <br /><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ECHLLCmd1lQ/VjJK4WuJleI/AAAAAAAAFkU/xUhESzqxFNQ/s1600/photo%2B4-744528.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211109168129611234" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ECHLLCmd1lQ/VjJK4WuJleI/AAAAAAAAFkU/xUhESzqxFNQ/s320/photo%2B4-744528.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in the wilderness of the Duwamish</td></tr></tbody></table>Just a couple of stops and a few minutes later, I emerged into the tube-like, futuristic station at Beacon Hill where the only way out is via the elevator. From there, I followed the signed bike route to Georgetown. I was dubious as I merged onto 15th Ave with cars exiting from I-5, but there was a wide shoulder and in a block, I turned to a quiet street and rolled down toward Lucille Street and on into Georgetown, finding bike parking right in front of All City Coffee. <br /><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JVmFFsW609Q/VjJK3iSs86I/AAAAAAAAFkI/YyeivygGBsg/s1600/photo%2B3-740926.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211109154055844770" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JVmFFsW609Q/VjJK3iSs86I/AAAAAAAAFkI/YyeivygGBsg/s320/photo%2B3-740926.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the industry of the Duwamish</td></tr></tbody></table>My fellow coffee drinkers from the Seattle Coffee Club all groaned about finding parking and the fact that there was a 2-hour limit. When I motioned toward my bike, one woman expressed an interest in riding, but only if she could be mostly on the trails. She could have ridden there on all flat trails, as I would demonstrate on my way home. After a latte at All City and lunch across the street at Hitchcock Deli (their other location is Bainbridge Island), I was off on my second half of the day's adventure.<br /><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6eVFeEho-gI/VjJK5eyDDKI/AAAAAAAAFkg/hj6mQPXkmW8/s1600/photo%2B5-747940.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211109187473312930" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6eVFeEho-gI/VjJK5eyDDKI/AAAAAAAAFkg/hj6mQPXkmW8/s320/photo%2B5-747940.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">along the waterfront trail</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I stopped a bunch of times to wait for bridge decks to open, to take photos, enjoy the view, try to find a bathroom, find a bathroom and walk my bike across the Ballard Locks. By then, I was wiped out, out of water and out of snacks, only a credit card left for payment. So I didn't stop; I kept plugging away uphill from Ballard to get home and eat and drink and take a nap. It was not a pretty sight. So much for my fine adventure.<br /><br /></div>Distance ridden: 27 <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/trips/6928150">http://ridewithgps.com/trips/6928150</a> (28.5 minus the light rail trip)<br /><br /></div>All City Coffee</div>1205 Vale St</div>Seattle</div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-3917425575932184312015-10-17T12:46:00.000-07:002015-11-11T18:35:06.841-08:00Coffeeneuring #3: Cafe Lulu<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aDJVtn5BMgg/VjJKmdaTFQI/AAAAAAAAFjY/-4sAnQF9zto/s1600/photo%2B2-773133.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211108860687750402" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aDJVtn5BMgg/VjJKmdaTFQI/AAAAAAAAFjY/-4sAnQF9zto/s320/photo%2B2-773133.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cafe Lulu in tile</td></tr></tbody></table><div><div><div><div>I suppose you could say it started out as an errandonnee. I needed a few things from Trader Joe's… bananas, bars, bathroom tissue (that's what <i>proper</i> people call toilet paper). I had a taste of their coffee of the day and had to have more of that taste. I picked up some crackers which can't be found anywhere else – raisin and rosemary, fig and oh, who cares, it's figs. Then, some white bean and basil hummus to go with the crackers and frozen mango to make smoothies with. I packed it up in my awesome Detours bike bag and though it was bursting at the zipper, I was still able to close it.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rCQTl3gmgj4/VjJKl02CPkI/AAAAAAAAFjM/3WrhzzotWQI/s1600/photo%2B1-769848.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211108849798233666" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rCQTl3gmgj4/VjJKl02CPkI/AAAAAAAAFjM/3WrhzzotWQI/s320/photo%2B1-769848.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">soy latte and chocolate coconut bar</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>On the way back from TJ's, I turned to 65th Street and then Latona. Next to the Latona Pub is Cafe Lulu. The bike parking is outside the pub because it's more essential to bike after drinking beer than after drinking coffee, I guess. I ordered a Soy Latte and a chocolate coconut bar (the same ones I get at Pioneer Coffee in North Bend when going hiking) from the friendly barista in the small cafe and took a seat by the window. Outside, across Latona was a restaurant I had heard mention on, The Butcher and the Baker, but didn't know where it was. A quick search told me that it's an excellent spot for brunch – I am filing that tidbit away somewhere. <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I6nTjhIlsNE/VjJKneZPotI/AAAAAAAAFjk/yBr_UZpuYfs/s1600/photo%2B3-776580.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6211108878131634898" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I6nTjhIlsNE/VjJKneZPotI/AAAAAAAAFjk/yBr_UZpuYfs/s320/photo%2B3-776580.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's in the bag!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>After quaffing my coffee, I quickly packed up to head home for the sake of my frozen fruit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Distance ridden: 5.5 miles</div><div><br /></div>Cafe Lulu</div>6417 Latona Ave NE</div>SeattleWhirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-47790861161104070922015-10-10T11:58:00.000-07:002015-10-31T12:48:10.233-07:00Coffeeneuring #2: Sky Cafe<div class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2BuQw7yJo60/Vhq9Lj0sW-I/AAAAAAAAFgQ/jQRgKLSgTXU/s1600/photo%2B1-741848.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6204479442948742114" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2BuQw7yJo60/Vhq9Lj0sW-I/AAAAAAAAFgQ/jQRgKLSgTXU/s320/photo%2B1-741848.JPG" /></a></div><div class="mobile-photo"><br /><br /><br /><div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Saturday was all about procrastinating. Later in the day I would be going to a friend's wedding and, while I had at least purchased the gift (a blender from the registry) and the wrapping paper, the two had not yet merged into a presentable gift. And then there was the weather: cool and cloudy. It was supposed to improve as the day went on, so I decided on a short ride up north which would get me back in plenty of time to get both the gift and myself in a presentable state.<br /><br /></div>Unfortunately, once you leave the core of Seattle, coffee shops that aren't part of a large chain are few and far between. I managed to find one in an unusual setting, one that would include the ambiance of fresh flowers and an open and airy feel. I rode on the Interurban Trail to Sky Nursery, at 190th Street. I walked my bike inside the greenhouse to their cafe and leaned it against bales of hay (part of their fall theme). To my surprise, I was not the only cyclist there; one guy had actually locked his bike to something while shopping inside.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Khs1vM0WOWU/Vhq9MWhHuLI/AAAAAAAAFgc/BJ_rA83mIuQ/s1600/photo%2B2-744604.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6204479456556857522" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Khs1vM0WOWU/Vhq9MWhHuLI/AAAAAAAAFgc/BJ_rA83mIuQ/s320/photo%2B2-744604.JPG" /></a></div><br /></div>The friendly barista (she asked me how my ride was) made me a soy latte and I sipped it while watching families with dogs and babies, just like in any other coffee shop. I continued on my ride, feeling the heart-pumping effects of the caffeine, just as my heart was pumping plenty on its own, due to the long climb up 25th Ave that I hadn't anticipated.<br /><br /></div>After my shower and post-ride stretching was done, I had barely enough time to wrap my gift before taking off for the wedding. My procrastinator's penalty came in the form of every single light along my route being red, though I still made the event in plenty of time. Sometimes, it just works to procrastinate.<br /><br /></div>Route: <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/trips/6788422">http://ridewithgps.com/trips/6788422</a></div>Sky Nursery Cafe</div>18528 Aurora Ave N</div>Shoreline, WA<br /><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Khs1vM0WOWU/Vhq9MWhHuLI/AAAAAAAAFgc/BJ_rA83mIuQ/s1600/photo%2B2-744604.JPG"></a></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-32978894267472999272015-10-04T21:52:00.000-07:002015-10-31T12:48:29.943-07:00Coffeeneuring Challenge, Day 1: Ventoux<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h7jZnZhdew4/VhH9TX6ENhI/AAAAAAAAFfQ/ASsZ-_bdft0/s1600/photo%2B2%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h7jZnZhdew4/VhH9TX6ENhI/AAAAAAAAFfQ/ASsZ-_bdft0/s400/photo%2B2%25281%2529.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a beautiful day at the cafe</td></tr></tbody></table>Years ago, on a bike tour in France's Provence region, I had the opportunity to ride up to the summit of Mt Ventoux; I didn't take it. Between my tight gearing that meant grinding gears (and my knees) and the thought of the screaming descent with only an inch of rubber and petite brakes to stop me, I made the decision that it wasn't worth the risk. Today, I got a second chance.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--NA1bHlAU9c/VhH9TSAAWiI/AAAAAAAAFfM/pTxXrtJZ5dE/s1600/photo%2B3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--NA1bHlAU9c/VhH9TSAAWiI/AAAAAAAAFfM/pTxXrtJZ5dE/s320/photo%2B3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my US bike in the company of an Italian </td></tr></tbody></table><div><br />Today is the first day of the <a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/category/coffeeneuring/coffeeneuring-rules/" target="_blank">Coffeeneuring Challenge</a>, 2015 and I started with a 25-mile loop up to Shoreline titled, <a href="http://ridewithgps.com/routes/7466204">Decent Descents of North Seattle</a>. On the return leg of the loop, I extended the route to include a climb up 55th Street to 35th Avenue for a stop at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ventouxroasters">Ventoux Roasters</a>. No need to hop a plane for this climb; the mountain has come to Seattle in the form of a sweet neighborhood coffee shop. I was out on a bike ride for some good coffee, plus a little treat for having made such a vigorous climb.<br /><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eXhHoZDFY7A/VhH9Ta9T-ZI/AAAAAAAAFfU/HX6XX118cT8/s1600/photo%2B1%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eXhHoZDFY7A/VhH9Ta9T-ZI/AAAAAAAAFfU/HX6XX118cT8/s320/photo%2B1%25281%2529.JPG" width="239" /></a><br />Oddly, there was no bike parking outside so I took my steed inside and leaned her against the wall, below some classic frames and jerseys. Since I had just made the climb up Ventoux, I was still perspiring and high on endorphins, in stark contrast to the barista and patrons who were mellowed out with coffee (yes, that happens when you drink it regularly) in the quiet, open environment of the little cafe.<br /><br /></div>Soon, with a Mighty-O Donut and a soy latte in hand, I was able to join those ranks. Appropriately, the espresso art was a heart (Hart Roasters) and was very smooth. The decor was bike-centered, but not entirely so in that a non rider would enjoy the space just as well.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XjEqtCcu1_Q/VhH9T9tuJ5I/AAAAAAAAFfk/xvm25i573Gg/s1600/photo%2B5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XjEqtCcu1_Q/VhH9T9tuJ5I/AAAAAAAAFfk/xvm25i573Gg/s320/photo%2B5.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">attention to detail: chainrings and coffee bags</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div><div><div><div><br /><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-41935034821529908952015-08-15T14:59:00.001-07:002015-08-15T14:59:02.115-07:00July Flower Extravaganza, Mt Rainier Nat'l ParkFlowers at Paradise, or should I say <i>IN</i> Paradise! I took a day off from work to explore the panoramas at Rainier that were bursting with color, starting at the Reflection Lake trail and connecting to the Skyline Trail.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E4O972rbs8w/Vc-u19ph9yI/AAAAAAAAFVY/afo4hhtArvU/s1600/dry%2Band%2Bwet%2Bclimates%2Bcollide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E4O972rbs8w/Vc-u19ph9yI/AAAAAAAAFVY/afo4hhtArvU/s640/dry%2Band%2Bwet%2Bclimates%2Bcollide.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />This is an area I snowshoe, especially on New Year's Day. At that time of year, it is covered with white and lacks contrast. But on this trip, it is an area where the dry of the moraines collide with the wet of the creek and the flowers.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-97SJ42cmPrw/Vc-u6AEYcQI/AAAAAAAAFV0/Xl1eeBB9Jos/s1600/my%2Bfave%2Bplace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-97SJ42cmPrw/Vc-u6AEYcQI/AAAAAAAAFV0/Xl1eeBB9Jos/s640/my%2Bfave%2Bplace.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />The above was taken while crossing the shallow creek, just above Sluiskin Falls. I found a nice rock from which to perch and I filtered water, soaked my feet and took photos. It is so lush with moss and flowers, with a great view of the Mountain, I didn't want to leave.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xiHCkJGsg2k/Vc-u9uf4BNI/AAAAAAAAFV8/1AmOz8LKoNg/s1600/tiny%2Bflowers%2Bat%2B7%252C000%2527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xiHCkJGsg2k/Vc-u9uf4BNI/AAAAAAAAFV8/1AmOz8LKoNg/s640/tiny%2Bflowers%2Bat%2B7%252C000%2527.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />There was lingering snow on the trail to Panorama Point, so I opted for the higher trail. I never expected to find tiny, colorful flowers growing so high (7,000') in a rocky field. This is where I talked to the first of two volunteer rangers and I made a note to self: volunteer at the Park after nursing.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LXSP1gpnI2Y/Vc-u-i2X8iI/AAAAAAAAFWE/f03RWeu-WCU/s1600/variety%2Bof%2Bflowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LXSP1gpnI2Y/Vc-u-i2X8iI/AAAAAAAAFWE/f03RWeu-WCU/s640/variety%2Bof%2Bflowers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />While the Tatoosh Range was hazy, the foreground flowers made up for it. Color, color everywhere!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ENUYI1vh3g/Vc-u2AQiEKI/AAAAAAAAFVk/wG4d5Kq6l-c/s1600/P1020195.JPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9ENUYI1vh3g/Vc-u2AQiEKI/AAAAAAAAFVk/wG4d5Kq6l-c/s640/P1020195.JPG.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />I call this the "Mountain at Work" photo because this is really the heart of Mt Rainier. The glacier advances and builds up moraines, moving rocks and boulders as it goes.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aFFRfz7Rdz4/Vc-u0IVra9I/AAAAAAAAFVU/LMVeghi8qLk/s1600/Myrtle%2BFalls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aFFRfz7Rdz4/Vc-u0IVra9I/AAAAAAAAFVU/LMVeghi8qLk/s640/Myrtle%2BFalls.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />This is Myrtle Creek Falls and I was the billionth and one person to photograph it. I have a refrigerator magnet with this image painted, only with mountain goats added to the cliff on the left and in the meadow. I was just lucky that the other billion people were not standing on the bridge above the falls at the time.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kzGAURtTrI0/Vc-0_8bCrbI/AAAAAAAAFWU/weogcfrP4TU/s1600/multi-colored%2BLupine%2Bon%2Bthe%2BLakes%2Btrail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kzGAURtTrI0/Vc-0_8bCrbI/AAAAAAAAFWU/weogcfrP4TU/s640/multi-colored%2BLupine%2Bon%2Bthe%2BLakes%2Btrail.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />Mountain Lupine is everywhere on the mountain, but these are my favorite colors. I also love the leaf pattern. This was one of the last photos I took and had to return to the trailhead to leave this beautiful area and get back to my real life.<br /><br />What a fantastic day!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-16160012782760481302015-08-15T11:49:00.000-07:002015-08-15T11:49:28.928-07:00Chain & Doelle Lakes Backpack, July 24 – 26<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RUwjAdzSXuA/Vc-F7GhENqI/AAAAAAAAFUc/nZq_N6bVf24/s1600/P1020239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RUwjAdzSXuA/Vc-F7GhENqI/AAAAAAAAFUc/nZq_N6bVf24/s400/P1020239.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PCT trailhead at Stevens Pass</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The very next weekend after suffering in summer's intense sun, I was back on the trail with a full pack on my back, heading south on the PCT from Stevens Pass. The weekend's forecast had made a drastic change: cool with temps in the 50s and rain. Rain?! I had mixed feelings; I was grateful for the cool temps to hike in, but I didn't want to get cold, especially when swimming in the alpine lakes we were headed to.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SMEOI6qLX_Q/Vc-F7W9SbkI/AAAAAAAAFUs/5doDqRRExPM/s1600/P1020240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SMEOI6qLX_Q/Vc-F7W9SbkI/AAAAAAAAFUs/5doDqRRExPM/s320/P1020240.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the last of the sunshine for the weekend</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Angling up on the PCT that traverses the Stevens Pass Ski Area, we said goodbye to the last traces of sunshine and headed into cloud cover. At Lake Susan Jane, a lake I hadn't noticed on previous trips, I decided to go for a swim as we stopped for a lunch break. The water was relatively warm and I didn't feel cool as I exited and dried off with my minimalist towel. My fellow backpackers thought I was nuts, but that is the life of an Alpine Lakes Wilderness swimmer.<br /><br />We passed Lake Josephine (swam in it in the past) and took the Icicle Creek Trail. So now I know that the headwaters of Icicle Creek are Josephine Lake – I love making this kind of connection in the geography. After some climbing and descending, we came to a small camp area beside the trail, the only one we had seen, and wondered how the seven of us, in our seven tents, were going to squeeze in. I offered to share my tent with a friend on the trip, but true to Mountaineers form, she chose to go single and we all managed to find suitable, if not creative, spaces for tents (including one hammock which definitely had the advantage in this scenario).<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ChsxQ0HgyIc/Vc-F6gEdW1I/AAAAAAAAFUg/r10toa82H6Q/s1600/2015%2B07%2B25_Chain%2Band%2BDoelle%2BLakes_0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ChsxQ0HgyIc/Vc-F6gEdW1I/AAAAAAAAFUg/r10toa82H6Q/s320/2015%2B07%2B25_Chain%2Band%2BDoelle%2BLakes_0007.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stopped for a swim</td></tr></tbody></table><br />During the night it rained and not a "light shower" that had been predicted, but long and hard and soaking. I stayed dry but was a bit leery about the day's trip up to Chain &amp; Doelle Lakes. We started up the trail and it was a bit grueling: switchbacks followed by straight up sections, a couple of level spots and repeat. It reminded me of the trail to Spade Lake which climbs up from Lake Waptus. Even knowing I would never hike that trail again, I couldn't bring myself to get into the water. My quest to swim in every lake in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness that a trail goes to was going to have at least one blank spot.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ssw4Gmsstls/Vc-F7wlBmGI/AAAAAAAAFU4/U9zt5XGy_b8/s1600/P1020253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ssw4Gmsstls/Vc-F7wlBmGI/AAAAAAAAFU4/U9zt5XGy_b8/s400/P1020253.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lower Chain Lake after cloud lifted</td></tr></tbody></table><br />We made it to the lower of the Chain Lakes and I wasted no time to get into the water as my fellow hikers practiced patience, standing by in their rain jackets and gloves, keeping warm. When I emerged from the water, I got the post-swim rush that I used to get when swimming in Lake Washington in October; it must have something to do with the cold. My head was pleasantly dizzy and light and I had a feeling of euphoria. Or maybe that is my body's way of blocking out the pain. I was standing on a wet surface and realized I wouldn't be able to get my feet clean or dry before putting my boots back on. After everyone got their photos of the lake and fog and the maiden who dared swim in it, we headed for the upper lakes and to the trail to Doelle.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qpT_Vf6p4rQ/Vc-F8nFp0CI/AAAAAAAAFU8/gfEOgC8Vhhs/s1600/P1020260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qpT_Vf6p4rQ/Vc-F8nFp0CI/AAAAAAAAFU8/gfEOgC8Vhhs/s320/P1020260.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icicle Creek Trail</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I had most of my layers on at this point, including my hat and gloves and so when I felt the wind blowing through me and thought about the danger of hypothermia, especially after submerging into a lake at 6500', I bowed out of the final climb. Instead, I stayed at the lake and ate my lunch (which was woefully small), changed to dry socks (though my boots were already soaked) and hiked all the side trails I could find to stay warm. One member of the group, another swimmer, came back early to tell me that all I missed was more wind and cold and a peek-a-boo view of a lake a couple of hundred feet below. We started descending toward camp together until the clouds lifted a bit and he went in for a swim. That evening found a couple of us doing hill repeats on a beautiful, moss-covered section of the Icicle Creek Trail in order to warm up before getting into our sleeping bags. What a contrast from last weekend!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c5IFtfwE1m8/Vc-F9NjmHhI/AAAAAAAAFVE/fBJeJ0qMmNY/s1600/P1020267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c5IFtfwE1m8/Vc-F9NjmHhI/AAAAAAAAFVE/fBJeJ0qMmNY/s400/P1020267.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on the Crest Trail ski run</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The next day on the hike out, we were doing the rain jacket on/rain jacket off song-and-dance as we ascended, then descended a couple of times to the trailhead. The drive home was through a deluge and we all felt better knowing we had not missed much in the way of sunshine. And one of us had crossed off another lake or two on our list.Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-35664186247201297222015-08-11T12:18:00.000-07:002015-08-11T12:18:10.418-07:00Not Very Wild, July 18 & 19<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LBkZzYJinPk/VcpIjCM0QhI/AAAAAAAAFTU/u_mwpntyCGQ/s1600/RGB1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LBkZzYJinPk/VcpIjCM0QhI/AAAAAAAAFTU/u_mwpntyCGQ/s400/RGB1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">north on the Katwalk</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;Ever since the book, and subsequent movie, <i>Wild</i> came out, a lot of attention has been paid to the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) that runs from Mexico to Canada. Attention from trail runners, dayhikers and long distance backpackers, aka thru-hikers, who want to hike part or all of the trail made famous by the book about a woman getting her life back together.<br /><br /></div><br />From this past weekend's backpack trip to Ridge and Gravel Lakes about 7 miles north of Snoqualmie Pass on the PCT, it appears that the trail may knock Snow Lake's trail off of its number one perch as most-hiked trail in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness (hmm, that word looks like "Wild Mess"). Our group of nine hikers arrived at the trailhead parking lot at 8:15AM to find a packed lot of cars with all manner of hikers preparing for the trail. As we made our way up the trail, there were people already coming down from the area known as the Katwalk, a section blasted out of the cliffs to provide a trail on a ledge. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKylP3BhEw8/VcpIlDGoFeI/AAAAAAAAFT4/zVs6X8Voajw/s1600/RGB5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oKylP3BhEw8/VcpIlDGoFeI/AAAAAAAAFT4/zVs6X8Voajw/s320/RGB5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ridge Lake, home for the night</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>It was a hot day and we would have liked to linger in the shade a little more, but the leader pushed us to get to the lakes so that there would still be a place for us to camp. Since it was an overnight trip and we were all near-strangers to one another, everyone preferred to be in their own tent, making camp availability a little trickier (we needed to find 9 spots). We pushed on through the lunch hour and arrived at Ridge and Gravel Lakes and found a meadow area at Ridge to spread out and camp. My first desire was to get under water, but the lake was so full of kids, people and a few dogs that it resembled a city park. Instead, I filtered water, set up camp and set out with the group a little later to hike further along the trail. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AaYS6RCjzU8/VcpIkDCQxlI/AAAAAAAAFT0/7FLR4kKlNAw/s1600/RGB2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AaYS6RCjzU8/VcpIkDCQxlI/AAAAAAAAFT0/7FLR4kKlNAw/s320/RGB2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alaska Lake below – no need to dive, swam it already</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mcXIuara-Rg/VcpIkm68A8I/AAAAAAAAFT8/32XQ9LBdPF0/s1600/RGB4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mcXIuara-Rg/VcpIkm68A8I/AAAAAAAAFT8/32XQ9LBdPF0/s640/RGB4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chikamin Peak and Joe Lake</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MldK0xrjVMs/VcpIkCZFiZI/AAAAAAAAFTo/HGNV0PBu8Ho/s1600/RGB3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MldK0xrjVMs/VcpIkCZFiZI/AAAAAAAAFTo/HGNV0PBu8Ho/s640/RGB3.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gold Creek Valley, the spot for solitude</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>The views from this area of the trail just got better and better, from Mt Rainier and Mt Adams, to Alaska Lake below and the Gold Creek Valley stretching out before us, reaching to Kachess Lake. Alternatively, Gold Creek is a nearly desolate stretch of trail, where bears and other wildlife are almost guaranteed to be sighted. I made the hike via Gold Creek to Alaska Lake last summer and we saw only one other party. At our turn-around point on the PCT, about 2 miles further from camp, we rounded Alaska Mountain and could see Joe Lake down below and peaks to the east. In the heat, it was tempting to think about going down to Joe, but the thought of the rough trail and climb out kept me sitting on my hot, smooth rock in the shade.&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr">When we arrived back at our camp, the lake was quiet and I went for an early evening swim before dinner. Perfect! It was a relatively warm evening and we had a meadow to ourselves which led to some stretching and yoga. Soon, pigeons (a great glute stretch), dogs (hamstring, calves, shoulders) and even a few crows (ab strengthener, balancing and just plain fun) started to show up. The soft ground was very forgiving, a welcome contrast to the typical hard, dusty ground found in most camp areas. In retrospect, we probably should not have been camping in a meadow area, as it is more fragile.</div><div dir="ltr"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jn2Nho6SYOo/VcpIlkLvIKI/AAAAAAAAFUA/LqeMjTzHS5Y/s1600/RGB6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jn2Nho6SYOo/VcpIlkLvIKI/AAAAAAAAFUA/LqeMjTzHS5Y/s640/RGB6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">south on the Katwalk</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div dir="ltr">After a relatively quiet night (we heard nearby thru-hikers packing up at dawn), we woke and had breakfast. I started to pack up for our beat-the-heat early departure of 9am, then took a break to get into the lake one more time. The water was still, the area was quiet and the experience was perfect, sublime even. Pushing the water with my hands and feet, it was like being the very first animal to ever ply the water. The sun was up, but not yet searing and the morning was mine to savor.&nbsp; This was my Wild.&nbsp;Soon enough, we would be on the trail, seeing many hikers coming up the trail,&nbsp;trading places with them&nbsp;from the day before.</div><br />Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-13873576462414656472015-07-05T16:09:00.000-07:002015-08-15T15:01:06.337-07:00Catching up on Adventures<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK18qvRSYHI/VZm2SbtWJwI/AAAAAAAAFP8/dv-K2PhuQUE/s1600/DSCN0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK18qvRSYHI/VZm2SbtWJwI/AAAAAAAAFP8/dv-K2PhuQUE/s320/DSCN0354.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Flock at a Gorge overlook</td></tr></tbody></table>It's been quite a while since I've written about my adventures. It's not that I haven't had adventures, in fact really excellent adventures, but I have been a writing slacker ever since graduating nursing school (which was a whole different kind of adventure).<br /><br /></div>One of the best bike trips from recent memory (even though it's the only bike trip from recent memory) was with my good ol' buddies in the Goosebumps group, with whom I had been a regular rider for a number of years. I was already planning a trip to the Columbia River Gorge area when Dottie, one half of a tandem with Orin, told me about a weekend of cycling in the Hood River area. After making arrangements with work (read: after working a double shift to make up the time), the wheels were in motion for an excellent extended weekend.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S_SvVY7PLVE/VZm2NskPbMI/AAAAAAAAFPc/BN4iJDjVhKo/s1600/FILE0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S_SvVY7PLVE/VZm2NskPbMI/AAAAAAAAFPc/BN4iJDjVhKo/s320/FILE0043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KickStand Kitchen &amp; Coffee, with bike shop next door</td></tr></tbody></table>We stayed at the Vagabond Inn which overlooks the Columbia River. Well, if you pony up the money for a fancy room. I opted for a "courtyard" room which was spacious and had space for doing yoga post-ride... priorities. There were two restaurants next door, one a greasy spoon, the other fine dining and town was a quick ride or drive away. The first morning, I rode my bike downtown to <a href="http://www.kickstandcoffee.net/menu.html">KickStand Coffee &amp; Kitchen</a> which is owned by a guy who is obviously a bike racer, judging from the long, lanky looks of him. He is also an excellent business owner and chef, as my tastebuds and tummy can attest. Over the course of the weekend, I would go there a couple more times, each time introducing more people from the group to their food, coffee and ambience.<br /><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vPOpl7kV1_k/VZm2LHt3aBI/AAAAAAAAFPE/Eg-oryGbksA/s1600/FILE0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vPOpl7kV1_k/VZm2LHt3aBI/AAAAAAAAFPE/Eg-oryGbksA/s320/FILE0025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shady and cool in the forest</td></tr></tbody></table>But first, the rides. I got a ride in Phu's car, along with Bill, to the start of the first day's route, from an area just west of Hood River. It was a mixture of quiet roads and even quieter trails; there was some serious Oregon-envy from early on when we weren't honked at and didn't even ride over any potholes. The only thing I found lacking in the route was toilets – it was warm, I was hydrated and there was nowhere to go. And then there was the stairs. They were kind of steep and led from the trail above the freeway up to the trail in the woods. We managed, but clearly, this was not the perfect solution. However, soon we arrived at Multnomah Falls where it was time for photos, eating a giant cookie and lounging around doing some people-watching. On the return trip, we waited 45 minutes in a line for ice cream at Cascade Locks, a town most famous for the Bridge of the Gods which the Pacific Crest Trail passes over (brings back memories from years ago, in fact). <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vnLBAudAYBw/VZm2J23APaI/AAAAAAAAFO8/mo9wfNmEtpI/s1600/FILE0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vnLBAudAYBw/VZm2J23APaI/AAAAAAAAFO8/mo9wfNmEtpI/s320/FILE0019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stairs. On the bike trail. Yep.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kz87BNBj1bM/VZm2MP9k5EI/AAAAAAAAFPM/coHwCYl2QQ8/s1600/FILE0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kz87BNBj1bM/VZm2MP9k5EI/AAAAAAAAFPM/coHwCYl2QQ8/s320/FILE0028.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">long wait for cold cream</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>The next day, Sunday, which was also Mothers' Day we started out by four of us going to KickStand for breakfast. My table-mates were relieved to not have to repeat the experience at the greasy spoon. Then, we got on our bikes and headed east this time, through town and up some crazy-looking switchbacks to another section of the scenic trail. Again, no bumps, potholes or cars and the improvement for today was the availability of toilets. Yay! After the trail, which had many scenic pullouts and meadows full of wildflowers, we climbed in the hills toward Rowena. There were some cars, but they were well-behaved. The scenery was full of old oak trees, grassy hills and views of Mt Hood, directly to the south. When we reached the Rowena Crest, there was a decision to be made: to go down the Rowena Curves to the Dalles and have to climb back up, or turn around at the Crest. Phu and I had just been talking about the ideal climbing grade, which we agreed was from 4 – 6% and there on the history placard was information that the curves were from 4 – 6% grade. Dave joined us and away the three of us went, with Bill as our photographer from above. It was not important to reveal who was the first to reach the crest on the climb back up as it was to recognize that this ride was going to be one of the best, if not <i>the</i> best, rides of the season.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vPEFcr11_aY/VZm2NK1eHqI/AAAAAAAAFPU/M4SrOVPBDuI/s1600/FILE0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vPEFcr11_aY/VZm2NK1eHqI/AAAAAAAAFPU/M4SrOVPBDuI/s320/FILE0037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ptNgOVhNSu4/VZm2POfWljI/AAAAAAAAFPs/g1gEdlImrQY/s1600/FILE0034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ptNgOVhNSu4/VZm2POfWljI/AAAAAAAAFPs/g1gEdlImrQY/s320/FILE0034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aDBGqksg0Ws/VZm2P5f2kGI/AAAAAAAAFP0/XC_iNAy2DYk/s1600/_DSF0097.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aDBGqksg0Ws/VZm2P5f2kGI/AAAAAAAAFP0/XC_iNAy2DYk/s400/_DSF0097.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WooHoo!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Of course, on our way back through town, we stopped at KickStand once more and enjoyed their espresso and a fantastic strawberry shortcake that the owner whipped up.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nOMvAlLwNxU/VZm2Uf5pMpI/AAAAAAAAFQE/qziN4-skzxA/s1600/DSCN0407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nOMvAlLwNxU/VZm2Uf5pMpI/AAAAAAAAFQE/qziN4-skzxA/s320/DSCN0407.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">jersey pockets are the right size for coffee and a map</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-29508479976475452742015-01-11T18:24:00.000-08:002015-01-11T18:24:25.183-08:00Snow(dirt)shoe at Snoqualmie Pass<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qQUZjQYZTGI/VLMszHHsbkI/AAAAAAAAFJM/y1swrGEc3gU/s1600/stones%2Band%2Bsnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qQUZjQYZTGI/VLMszHHsbkI/AAAAAAAAFJM/y1swrGEc3gU/s1600/stones%2Band%2Bsnow.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my arty shot for the day</td></tr></tbody></table><br />When I signed up for the Mountaineers photography snowshoe trip at Snoqualmie Pass, it was with the understanding that the snow pack might be low. The ski area at the Pass was currently closed, if that was any indication. But the conditions the group found were a profound departure for normal snowpack or even what "low snowpack" implies.<br /><br /></div>We started from the Alpental ski area and set off across the ski area bridge over the creek, or more correctly identified as the South Fork of the Snoqualmie River. Though it has meager beginnings at Source Lake which is more like a pond, it becomes mighty lower down, eventually joining the Snoqualmie River downstream. Since this was a photo trip, our progress was not swift, especially at the start, where opportunities for capturing images of flowing water and snow were great. Further up the trail, we came to our first of many creek crossings and it appeared that these were new creeks, formed in the past week, by a storm that came through. A bunch of snow was dumped first, then the temperature warmed up and rain fell, totaling 8 inches (it is assumed the 8 inches include snow that melted). In any case, a lot of water was dumped on the area.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J-xV9LbYve8/VLMtEuRpMTI/AAAAAAAAFJg/q0FMP-q6TLA/s1600/destruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J-xV9LbYve8/VLMtEuRpMTI/AAAAAAAAFJg/q0FMP-q6TLA/s1600/destruction.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mass destruction where water convened</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FgEjAhIZ5So/VLMtKEh9gYI/AAAAAAAAFJ0/O4EbCBRHk2g/s1600/excavation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FgEjAhIZ5So/VLMtKEh9gYI/AAAAAAAAFJ0/O4EbCBRHk2g/s1600/excavation.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div>Making our way up the valley, it became clear as to what had happened: snow had melted and washed down the sides of the mountains and cliff faces, coursing beneath the snow, displacing snow and often the soil beneath. In one area, soil had been excavated from beside trees as the water had swirled in powerful form. It was fascinating to see the resulting destruction, but the travel was difficult, as we had to cross over creeks constantly, often using branches of a bush or rocks to cross on. In one area, the leader created a crossing by throwing in large rocks to decrease the depth of water. One participant was on backcountry skis and, although I identified with him in terms of standing out in the crowd, I also cringed at the thought of taking skis off to descend and ascend the bank on either side.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r5M32MZ47Q8/VLMtLFQLeMI/AAAAAAAAFJ8/GQZ00lVTFjA/s1600/textures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r5M32MZ47Q8/VLMtLFQLeMI/AAAAAAAAFJ8/GQZ00lVTFjA/s1600/textures.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QNv2Nls6_Xw/VLMtErupgVI/AAAAAAAAFJY/kwUd7MDGspM/s1600/b%26w%2Bhoarfrost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QNv2Nls6_Xw/VLMtErupgVI/AAAAAAAAFJY/kwUd7MDGspM/s1600/b%26w%2Bhoarfrost.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div>The photo opportunities were many – frost on trees and hoarfrost at the surface, creating images full of texture. While down on knees photographing the hoarfrost, I became engrossed in the miniature world, much like the sensation when snorkeling among colorful fish and other sea life; it took a minute to adjust to the world-at-large when I stood up. When we tired of the constant crossings, we made our way to the other side of the valley and up to the well-trodden Snow Lake Trail. Although the photo opportunities were fewer, it was a much needed break on the trip; the outing had been rated as Easy and so far there was very little about the trip that fit that description. Being on the trail was like a vacation, until that also came to an end.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fxkd_PBZtis/VLMtH0E1J3I/AAAAAAAAFJs/wuGOgfKKwFI/s1600/doing%2Bhis%2Bown%2Bthings%2C%2Bon%2Bskis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fxkd_PBZtis/VLMtH0E1J3I/AAAAAAAAFJs/wuGOgfKKwFI/s1600/doing%2Bhis%2Bown%2Bthings%2C%2Bon%2Bskis.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">doing his own thing... on skis</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HF_r001nvI8/VLMtEcKDyUI/AAAAAAAAFJU/DYGv8Vvbw5E/s1600/P1010841.JPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HF_r001nvI8/VLMtEcKDyUI/AAAAAAAAFJU/DYGv8Vvbw5E/s1600/P1010841.JPG.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div>The leader decided to get off the trail and head down through the woods, a great idea, until we realized that meant we would have to cross the river as it was gaining steam. A couple of us "made like girls and did the sensible thing", backtracking up to the trail, finding more of photographic interest lower on the trail, including multiple waterfalls and fog in the valley. <br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0King County, WA, USA47.423143700461 -121.4507675170898447.412400200461 -121.47093751708984 47.433887200460994 -121.43059751708985tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-88292313170640438462014-11-14T11:26:00.000-08:002014-11-14T11:26:27.447-08:00So what is Coffeeneuring anyway?<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pqYrP1ZfFxg/VGZWtcQC0eI/AAAAAAAAFHw/ocvxL8za6e0/s1600/img_20140911_122329-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pqYrP1ZfFxg/VGZWtcQC0eI/AAAAAAAAFHw/ocvxL8za6e0/s1600/img_20140911_122329-1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>I was recently made aware by a friend that I had neglected to explain the term, "coffeeneuring" fully. He assumed I had made it up and it was similar to canyoneering. While somebody did coin the term, I can't take the credit. It has origins in both Seattle and Washington, DC and ties into the sport of Randonneuring.<br /><br /></div>Randonneuring, a little-known sport in cycling. It comes from the French and is basically long-distance cycling (100 to 1,000K) with lots and lots of rules. The main rule is that there is a time limit, within which all of your activities must be contained: cycling, eating, sleeping, peeing, etc. The "Randos", as they are referred to, love pedaling their bicycles and ride during the day and through the night, sometimes sleeping in phone booths or in the back of 7-Elevens (true stories from a rando friend). I once participated in a rando event called the <a href="http://www.whirled-traveler.com/2008/11/oregon-wine-country-populaire.html" target="_blank">Wine Country Populaire</a>. It could be described as Rando Lite, as the distance was very manageable (100K – 60 miles) and we slept in beds at the end of the day. I think the organizers were just hoping to gain a few more recruits to head down the slippery road of randonneuring; something about riding these long distances makes them very, very nice people. Almost too nice.<br /><br /></div>Back to the subject at hand... these rando people sometimes like to take it easy, if you can imagine that. They ride over hill and dale through the day and night, but then tootle down the street (still on their bikes, of course) to a coffee shop to perk themselves up. That is where Coffeeneuring was born – what randonneurs do when they're not out completing their bajillion-mile rides. <a href="http://thedailyrandonneur.wordpress.com/2011/08/10/rando-qa-with-joe-platzner-seattle-randonneurs/">Joe Platzner</a>, a Seattle Randonneur, was quoted as saying, "A bunch of us have trained pretty hard for PBP (Paris-Brest-Paris). After PBP, I'm probably going to lobby RUSA for an official "Coffee Shop Run" medal. To earn it, you need to ride your bike slowly to a nearby coffee shop and enjoy a fine beverage." Shortly thereafter, a <a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/category/coffeeneuring/coffeeneuring-rules/">randonneur </a>in DC coined the term "Coffeeneur".<br /><br />Of course, Coffeeneuring has rules, too, though not nearly as stringent as the Rando version. Plus, there's a commemorative patch for all my hard work at the end, which is produced the the author of <a href="http://chasingmailboxes.com/" target="_blank">Chasing Mailboxes</a>.<br /><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-7212175267778139502014-11-10T19:22:00.000-08:002014-11-14T11:18:56.312-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge, Day #7<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ViproR_nwxs/VGF-cF8gmII/AAAAAAAAFHc/xLZPX0N6RWI/s1600/SLU2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ViproR_nwxs/VGF-cF8gmII/AAAAAAAAFHc/xLZPX0N6RWI/s1600/SLU2.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">who said anything about work?!</td></tr></tbody></table>It looks as though this is a banner year for completing things. First nursing school and now the Coffeeneuring Challenge. Yay!<br /><br /></div>I rode one of my favorite in-city loops, starting down Roosevelt Way. The pavement cracks have been sealed recently and it's clear that all the cracks are in the bike lane (lame) which I avoided by taking the lane (totally doable when wearing a bike skirt). I turned down Roanoke Street to ride the bikeway along the lake, then connected to the bike route along Fairview and through the confusing bit where it crosses the South Lake Union Trolley (SLUT – seriously!) tracks, turning right to the South Lake Union Park (SLUP is not nearly as fun).<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PF_wNkWxhvQ/VGF-bgPWw3I/AAAAAAAAFHQ/SJ2k9pKX8wc/s1600/SLU1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PF_wNkWxhvQ/VGF-bgPWw3I/AAAAAAAAFHQ/SJ2k9pKX8wc/s1600/SLU1.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunshine in November!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>I found a seating area that provided some shelter from the north wind on this beautifully sunny but cool day. Several people passed by and I was ready to talk about "Coffee in the Parks" which is to say I was going to be messing with them, but no one gave me a second look. I guess brewing coffee is so commonplace, that doing it outside on a sunny day, in a park, by yourself, next to your bike is nothing special. There went my attempt at fame.<br /><br /></div>When I had poured my milk in and relaxed to drink it, two people walked by with Starbucks cups in hands. Oh Starbucks, you naughty bastards, talking about sustainability and fair trade on your website and then trying to prevent the pure-maple-syrup-state of Vermont from labeling GMOs. Want to know more? (of course you do), go <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bill-couzens/a-latte-gmos_b_6119032.html">here</a>. Then <a href="http://action.sumofus.org/a/starbucks-gmo-gma/...">here</a> to sign a petition.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FQl4dRycl8Q/VGF-b-QFcYI/AAAAAAAAFHU/BZlcu8moBcU/s1600/SLU3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FQl4dRycl8Q/VGF-b-QFcYI/AAAAAAAAFHU/BZlcu8moBcU/s1600/SLU3.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A re-located treasure</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>Back to my beautiful sunny day... I packed up and finished the loop with a little hillclimb where I was passed by a woman with snow boots on. I will take that as a sign, as we are expecting some chilly weather ahead this week. Perhaps I will go on to CC, Day #8 and warm up later in the week in a cafe. Stay tuned...<br /><br /></div>Also, stay tuned for another post about this Coffeeneuring business and how it came to be.<br /><br />Distance from home: 5.2 miles<br />Coffee: Conduit's Rwanda Decaf <br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-36892820268272415202014-11-08T18:09:00.001-08:002014-11-14T11:19:22.925-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge, Day #6<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ED34nzfSlc/VF7K0S4sepI/AAAAAAAAFGw/hyCZIkAOzhM/s1600/coffee%2Bbefore%2Bspillage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ED34nzfSlc/VF7K0S4sepI/AAAAAAAAFGw/hyCZIkAOzhM/s1600/coffee%2Bbefore%2Bspillage.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stumptown at Chaco</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Today (Friday) I broke with my coffeeneuring pattern and, instead of brewing my own in the great outdoors, I had someone make it for me, then I drank it at a park. That was not the original plan, but after spending a ridiculous amount of time driving this week, and a lot of it in traffic that, frankly, shouldn't even exist at the hours in which I was on the roads, I was feeling like I needed some TLC. <br />Total Love Coffee. Coffee baristas: show me the love in my cup, please! I am a road-weary traveler in need of some caffeine to set things right. I lack the energy it requires to pack up my brewing gear and create fire. Oh, won't you be so kind as to pull me a lovely shot or two of espresso and make it look pretty with some foam on top?<br /><br /></div>One of my favorite restaurants in Seattle is a place with organic and vegan food. Yes, that's right, this meat-eater loves vegan food. They make cheese from nuts, eggs from tofu and have the best cupcakes and pie anywhere, without the use of butter. I've been there for brunch, lunch, dinner, a Valentine's Day celebration and study groups; it comes close for return visits with Mr. Gyros (where I get my weekly Lamb Gyros). They also serve Stumptown Coffee, don't charge extra for non-dairy milk and their baristas are neither hippies, nor too hip to be friendly. <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nZvnCFn_yLY/VF7K0M7tNuI/AAAAAAAAFGs/W-0XoYIX4RU/s1600/Joe%2Bat%2BChaco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nZvnCFn_yLY/VF7K0M7tNuI/AAAAAAAAFGs/W-0XoYIX4RU/s1600/Joe%2Bat%2BChaco.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nothing average about Chaco</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>It was a beautiful day and I locked my bike up outside, noting that their outdoor seating was in the shade, a shame on a sunny day in November. After getting a hazelnut chocolate cookie in a bag and my latte in a to-go cup, I set the cup into a pocket of my Detours bike bag to drink it at a park. It seemed a little precarious, but I had no other choice, as I had not brought my personal cup. While several blocks of 12th Ave NE is baby-bottom smooth, plenty of it is not and so, when I arrived at the park along boat street, I had lost about 2oz of my coffee. Oh well, it was time to clean my bike bag anyway.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UONmVqsudsk/VF7LE2roTDI/AAAAAAAAFG8/kkOPojM9k2Q/s1600/surly%2Blake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UONmVqsudsk/VF7LE2roTDI/AAAAAAAAFG8/kkOPojM9k2Q/s1600/surly%2Blake.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div>From the park on Boat Street, I could see the I–5 bridge and how slowly traffic was moving in the southbound direction and, for the first time for the week, seeing traffic was very satisfying.<br /><div><div><div><br />Distance from home: 2 miles<br />Coffee: Stumptown Indonesia <br />Cost: $4.50<br /><br /><div><br /></div><div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-65505718089932271312014-11-03T16:14:00.000-08:002014-11-14T11:19:46.924-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge, Day #5<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R-EZtMQqsGo/VFgY4tWaJyI/AAAAAAAAFF4/Zh1GFmxjAP8/s1600/on%2BRavenna%2BBlvd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R-EZtMQqsGo/VFgY4tWaJyI/AAAAAAAAFF4/Zh1GFmxjAP8/s1600/on%2BRavenna%2BBlvd.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">worth the braking!</td></tr></tbody></table>Today, I fully realized the downside to putting off the start of my challenge – November is a month renowned for crappy weather. First, the rains begin, then the wind comes (and with it, down come the leaves), then the time goes back to Standard, making it that much more dark. I got a break in the rain, much like I did on Day #1, and set off toward Ravenna Boulevard, taking the path of most resistance. Yes, you read that right, <i>most</i> resistance, as in more gradual downhills so that I wouldn't have to brake too much on the wet roads. Braking on wet rims leads to less ability to stop effectively and I was going to be descending from Phinney Ridge down toward the Ravenna neighborhood and I wanted to be as safe as possible.<br /><br /></div>It ended up being a very nice route, as I cycled on the recently re-paved section of road that went south around Green Lake, then along Ravenna Blvd and to my destination near 20th Ave NE, at <a href="http://www.sevencoffeeroasters.com/#!market-cafe/cq9q" target="_blank">Seven Market &amp; Cafe</a>. I don't know how many times I have passed by this cafe/store which used to be called Boulevard Grocery. But this was the first time I was stopping in for something hot and creamy. This was not an uncommon sentiment heard at the cafe; it is the only commercial building among houses and on a section of downhill that does not lend itself to stopping. But stop, I did, and I locked my bike up right in front.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Psp1HR7rzCg/VFgZOsPSpwI/AAAAAAAAFGE/OnaAPnDIqMo/s1600/normally%2B3%2Bshots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Psp1HR7rzCg/VFgZOsPSpwI/AAAAAAAAFGE/OnaAPnDIqMo/s1600/normally%2B3%2Bshots.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almond Milk Latte</td></tr></tbody></table></div>The barista welcomed me and when I ordered, asked if I wanted the standard of 3 shots in my latte. Whoa... 3 shots... I wouldn't have to pedal home! She brought my almond latte over to the table where I sat with my book. I looked around and saw some people with laptops and some with, like me, actual pen and paper. Like the grocery store we were in, with shelves stocked with all kinds of things that a nearby resident would want (snacks, chocolate, makings for a quick dinner, tea and coffee), the customers seemed to be throwbacks from an earlier era. I fit right in with my book.<br /><br /><br />Distance from home: 3 miles<br />Coffee: Seven Roasters<br />Cost: $4.27<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8sjWu91PnXU/VFgZOHjffGI/AAAAAAAAFGA/N9d7v24lkcY/s1600/Seven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8sjWu91PnXU/VFgZOHjffGI/AAAAAAAAFGA/N9d7v24lkcY/s1600/Seven.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div></div></div><br /></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-45038625673698895542014-10-29T20:35:00.000-07:002014-11-14T11:20:04.927-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge, Day #4<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MaFN4poDfAA/VFGwu-Z4zTI/AAAAAAAAFFc/VNhNtaMtd5w/s1600/gazebo%2Bbelow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MaFN4poDfAA/VFGwu-Z4zTI/AAAAAAAAFFc/VNhNtaMtd5w/s1600/gazebo%2Bbelow.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">gazebo below my perch</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-92wEVitn-6k/VFGwsBKfSbI/AAAAAAAAFFA/yPsKsgLcqww/s1600/all%2Bmy%2Bgear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-92wEVitn-6k/VFGwsBKfSbI/AAAAAAAAFFA/yPsKsgLcqww/s1600/all%2Bmy%2Bgear.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all the gear fit to brew</td></tr></tbody></table>This morning, I helped kids at a local elementary school learn how to ride their bike safely and this afternoon, I rode out to another Seattle park for some coffee – making and scenery enjoying. While I was riding up the Arboretum's park drive, first I saw a patrol car and then a Seattle Parks maintenance vehicle coming the opposite way. It was then that I first had the thought that perhaps what I was about to do (brew coffee with a campstove) might be either illegal or frowned upon by officials. A sidebar might be titled, "Why is this park different from other Seattle Parks?" Well, the University of Washington owns the land here and it is maintained by Seattle Parks. So good thing they had just passed me going the other way, their patrol had apparently ended while my mischief was about to begin (am I a bad person if I admit that this thought gave me a rush of excitement?).<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gTYBRcHHVdw/VFGwrUqiuPI/AAAAAAAAFE4/TfyTtnyYrYI/s1600/bike%2Band%2Bfriendly%2Brocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gTYBRcHHVdw/VFGwrUqiuPI/AAAAAAAAFE4/TfyTtnyYrYI/s1600/bike%2Band%2Bfriendly%2Brocks.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">these rocks were made for my bike</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>I decided on a spot that was just off the drive, overlooking a gazebo with some really nice fall color surrounding it. For me, there was a park bench and for my bike, a duo of rocks that held my bike up as if that's what the intended purpose was, like nature's bike stand. My water boiled very quickly since this time it was water for only the coffee and I pressed the coffee soon after, adding the pre-steamed coconut milk. After putting away some of the possibly incriminating evidence, I sat with my hot cup of coffee and enjoyed my surroundings before heading off toward home.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p9mv2b4Q28Y/VFGwuaHFVDI/AAAAAAAAFFY/_vTyiANk3XU/s1600/fall%2Bcolor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p9mv2b4Q28Y/VFGwuaHFVDI/AAAAAAAAFFY/_vTyiANk3XU/s1600/fall%2Bcolor.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yHYYkW8AXNI/VFGwtbQBGnI/AAAAAAAAFFQ/COPeWljsonY/s1600/coffee%2Bmaking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yHYYkW8AXNI/VFGwtbQBGnI/AAAAAAAAFFQ/COPeWljsonY/s1600/coffee%2Bmaking.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ah, simplicity</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>Details: </div>coffee: Rwanda Korenge from Conduit<br /><div><div><div><div>distance from home: 7 miles </div><div>cost: insignificant</div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4046468402230501480.post-86555731844567599112014-10-27T17:38:00.000-07:002014-11-14T11:20:19.649-08:00Coffeeneuring Challenge, Day #3<div dir="ltr"><div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Awd3n1xmcRs/VE7jzgAUXhI/AAAAAAAAFEg/Zi_4f0I8IuE/s1600/coffee%2Band%2Bbrompton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Awd3n1xmcRs/VE7jzgAUXhI/AAAAAAAAFEg/Zi_4f0I8IuE/s1600/coffee%2Band%2Bbrompton.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>Neither I nor <a href="http://feeltherun.com/" target="_blank">Laura</a> can quite remember how we first met. It was either that we were cycling together on Mondays and then she showed up in my yoga class, or a gal from my yoga class appeared on the Monday night rides. Regardless, we have stayed friends mostly from sporadically seeing each other around the city, in a yoga class or, mainly, on Facebook. When she saw last week's post about coffee en plein air at Discovery Park, she asked if I'd like to join her in a collective coffeeneuring circle of cycling joy (or something like that). <br /><br /></div>We met up at <a href="http://voxxseattle.com/#aboutus" target="_blank">Voxx Cafe</a> on Eastlake Ave, she on her folding <a href="http://brompton.com/" target="_blank">Brompton</a> which she kept neatly (and easily, I might add) folded up beside us and me on my Surly, locked to a nearby rack. I had one of the cafe's seasonal specials – Cardamom Vanilla Latte and a ginger cookie (I guess I was in a spicy mood). They were both delicious, with not too much spice in either item.<br /><br /></div>Amid our conversation, a black lab interjected his snout, looking for cookie or at least cookie crumbs. It wasn't until his person disappeared inside and he began to bark that the crumbs made an appearance within the confines of his leash length. We returned plates that were licked clean.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVtRTT-zuG4/VE7jzqdT8II/AAAAAAAAFEk/Oz_GHe1KgTM/s1600/cookie%2Bdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVtRTT-zuG4/VE7jzqdT8II/AAAAAAAAFEk/Oz_GHe1KgTM/s1600/cookie%2Bdog.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>After coffee and conversation, we two gals with longtime cycling connections made our way down to the obscurely–named <a href="http://www.seattle.gov/parks/lakeunionloop/" target="_blank">Cheshiahud Trail </a>which encircles Lake Union. We rode the soon-to-be-a-cycle-track area of the parking lot on Westlake Ave, then across the Fremont Bridge, at the north end of which we parted. I am sure our paths will cross again soon.<br /><br />Details:<br />coffee: Lighthouse<br />cost: $7.88 for latte and cookie, plus tip<br />distance from home: 5 miles <br />distance <br /><div><div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>Whirled Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11199010017320669981noreply@blogger.com0